


Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa

by aradian_nights



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Ghoul Investigator Kaneki, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Really Fix-It, Panic Attacks, Role Reversal, Time Loop, Time Travel, Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 46
Words: 423,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aradian_nights/pseuds/aradian_nights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki Ken dies at the hand of Arima Kishou. Everything should have ended. Instead, Kaneki wakes up in a hospital bed fresh out of the surgery that made him a ghoul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. redormio

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha, oh my god a peggy sue fic, look at this. I'm really excited about this, and I've planned a...? A decent amount of it out but I'm mostly bull shitting everything so bear with me. Also the tags say it's a fix-it but that's a dirty fucking lie, I never set out to actually fix anything, though that's definitely Kaneki's intention. Some things work out! Other things...
> 
> Well, I guess you'll see.

As his consciousness faded, his mind swimming in the coughing dustbowl that had erupted as all his feelings and all his thoughts turned to ash, he began to recollect a familiar sense of dread. The creeping hand of death rose from a cavernous paradise, where spider lilies sprung up from the hollows of skeletons, filling in the empty spaces and attempting to beautify the horror of decay.

He heard the soft moaning of souls, the begotten and forgotten, and if he held his breath he could almost recognize the voices.

It wasn't long before he realized he knew the voices. The voice. Severed by time and by torture and by the twisted toll of karmic intervention.

The creeping hand of death was outstretched, and he saw its slender little fingers grappling at bare air, joints locking while the bone white arm was overtaken by muscle spasms.

He saw it.

On that night, dangling on the end of Rize's drooping fingertips, a clown was laughing.

He wasn't sure what that meant, even in hindsight. Laughter had warped inside his head, a cacophony of low moans clashing with high and mighty chortles. He felt like a chess piece knocked off the board, and now he could only sit in bone chilling agony, staring up as a higher player captured a pawn and a knight.

It couldn't matter now, anyway, could it?

Since he was already…

* * *

Heaven smelled like antiseptic.

Of course, he couldn't complain, because the scent of decomposition had burned the hair from his nostrils. Blood and piss and something rotten. Why did that scent have to be so familiar? It was odd to not be plagued by the distinctive foulness of someone rotting away, be it literally or not.

But heaven smelled so clean, it was tickling the back of his throat and regurgitating sour tastes. Stomach acid washed over his tongue, which sat heavily in his sealed mouth. Heaven felt lethargic. He didn't know if his limbs would move, but he didn't want to move them, so he left them to the pervading white haze.

Pain was like a dull, faded memory. Needles in his eyes and blood seeping from his lips? That had been a bad dream.

Bad dreams. Nightmares of Death standing amongst the sprouting spider lilies, parting them with a startlingly precise gait. Death moved so deliberately, stepping with the knowledge that one mishap could botch an entire meticulously developed strategy.

Death had cut him down.

And now he was lying in heaven with tubes in his arms, and that was disorienting by itself. Even through the milky high, he found something wrong with this picture. Heaven didn't provide drugs. Heaven did not sing songs of beeping life machines. Where was the need when you were dead?

He opened his eyes, and the white glare of heaven's sky winked back.

Kaneki Ken was comfortable and safe, and that was simply because Kaneki Ken was dead.

A shadow blotted his view of the overreaching white slate of sky. A light sunk into his eyes and he snapped them closed instinctively. Words were funneled through the cotton stuffed inside his ears, and all that he received were slow rhythms of sounds. Like someone humming underwater.

His consciousness drifted back once more into the solemn graveyard of ashes and spider lilies.

It seemed to him that this hell of flowers was far more appealing than that heaven of blindness and deafness and intoxication. To be dead in his memory was relieving compared to being dead in scorching light and excruciating ringing and inexplicable numbness.

When he returned to consciousness he felt that something was deeply wrong.

He was in pain.

What cruel god could inflict pain on the deceased?

Unless he was in hell.

That would honestly explain a lot.

How could he delude himself into thinking he'd be worthy of heaven?

He had to work off some sins and pray he hadn't damned himself utterly.

Something cold and wet met his lips, and he opened his eyes, recalling the burning sensation at the back of his throat as blood sloshed against his tongue. He expected to taste iron as the liquid hit his tongue, but as his head was held upward he was able to swallow a cool mouthful of water that soothed the desert sands of his throat.

His mouth was wiped gingerly, and he sat for a moment in a dumb silence, shock beginning to subside as he was propped upright, his abdomen flaring with a startling amount of pain. He gasped, his fingers flying to his stomach, and he curled up defensively. What wound was this? Where had he gotten this?

Was he… was he alive after all?

"What…?" He exhaled, his voice hitting his throat like sandpaper, slicing through the air and grinding against his teeth. It tasted bad. Rotten.

"Oh!" A pair of hands captured his shoulders, and he looked up sharply. His eyes adjusted to the blinding whiteness of it all, the heaven that was not, the light that was blinding, and he saw a woman's face. He stared at her vacantly. She looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn't place her name. "Easy, easy. There's no rush."

"Where…?" He blinked rapidly as she pushed his shoulders back gingerly until his spine hit a pillow. He held his head in one hand while the other clawed at itchy white sheets. White, white, white, oh where did it end? He wondered if he blended right in with the décor. Sickly pale skin and sickly pale hair and sickly pale clothes. He supposed the only color to him would be his eyes. Eye? He wasn't sure.

"You're in the hospital, Kaneki," the woman told him gently. "Don't you remember the accident?"

"Accident…?" Is that what they were calling that man's butcher of him?

Something didn't feel right here.

The woman looked concerned now, her brow pinching worriedly, and she squinted at him.

"Well," she said cautiously, "you've been out for a few days, so it's not abnormal that you might have some memory lapse."

"A few  _days_?" He was remembering it all now. The CCG, the battles, Hide, Anteiku… "I… I'm alive, right?" He raised his hands to his eyes, feeling them uncertainly, and he came to the conclusion that they were still there and that they hadn't been stabbed out. "This is… real, isn't it?"

"Oh," the nurse said, her voice filled with pity. An irritating amount of pity. "Yes, you're very much alive, and you're on your way to a speedy recovery! I know a near death experience can be frightening, but I'm sure you can take this and become stronger from it."

"Uh. Okay." He stared at her bemusedly. "Thanks. So does that mean I can be discharged?"

"Your recovery isn't  _that_  speedy!"

 _Yeah it is_ , he thought, rubbing his eyes reflexively. They were a little sore.  _Did you not notice my eyes grew back and my skin sealed itself or…?_

"I'd like to go home at the soonest possible time," he said, lowing his hands into his lap. "So can you please let me know when that is? I've already been here way too long."

"Well, surgery takes time to recuperate from!" the nurse huffed. She looked a little agitated now, and he stared at her vacantly.

"Surgery?" he repeated confusedly.

Something… really… wasn't right…

The nurse looked down at her feet, and Kaneki could sense the death in the air, bad news creeping up on him from the way she tensed her shoulders and averted her eyes. Who had died?

Dread was such a devastating force.

He was gripping his blankets with stubby fingernails, his body frozen in anticipation. Who to mourn, who to avenge. This was how he had to cope.

"Unfortunately," the nurse murmured, "you were the only survivor of the accident. The girl you were with was dead on arrival, so—"

"What girl?" he gasped, his heartbeat accelerating and his knuckles clenching the sides of his mattress, his mind in shambles as he realized that he had no idea what was happening, and anyone could have found him after Death's— after the dove's assault. If it had been a girl…

 _Not you_ , he thought desperately.  _Why you? Why can't you just… let yourself be happy and safe, Touka? Why…?_

Something wasn't adding up. Why would the CCG take him to a hospital? Why would they take Touka if…?

"Kamishiro Rize?" The nurse tilted her head. "She was with you when it happened. I thought you two might've—"

" _What_?"

The nurse took a step back in alarm. Perhaps his tone had been a little too harsh. Incredulous. Furious.

Now he knew why this nurse looked familiar. She'd been the woman who had been his nurse after the incident with Rize. But what the hell was going on  _now_?

"Oh, so you… did know her then…?"

Kaneki pushed himself up and away from the pillows, his fists sinking into his hospital bed as he attempted to maneuver his legs out from beneath the blankets. His legs felt gelatinous, immobile and quivery. Every little twitch of his knees sent a stab of pain shooting into his abdomen, and he couldn't ignore it or suffer through it. His body felt so weak and sensitive, and that made it difficult to put on a brave face and pretend like pain meant nothing to him.

"Stop moving!" The nurse grasped his shoulders and pushed him back. He stared at her with wild eyes, and he pressed his arms to his stomach, exhaling sharply through his teeth. "There, you see? You're in no condition to leave just yet."

"What's going on?" He whispered. "Rize… is…"

"Dead," the nurse said in a soft, sympathetic voice. "I'm sorry. Did you know her well?"

He stared at her. What was he supposed to say? What the hell was happening?

"Not… really," he managed to choke out.

"Ah." She turned her face away, her tired eyes growing distant and dim. "That's unfortunate. It seemed she didn't have any family either."

Kaneki couldn't even manage a reply. His voice was stuck in his burning throat, and his thoughts were stuck in Death's flowery field, where the spider lilies grew, where the corpses were blanketed by spindly red beauty wavering on strings.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Kaneki blurted.

The nurse glanced down at him in surprised, but she nodded quickly. "Oh! Right, you'll have to take your IV, but—"

"Yeah, that's fine." He waited impatiently as she disconnected him from the heart monitor and helped him sit completely upright. There was an unfathomable burning in his chest, and an inexplicable stabbing in his stomach. Like there was a grease fire licking at his ribs and a pair of talons ripping at his navel from the inside out.

Whatever pain meds they were giving him, they'd just about stopped working.

He pressed his lips together thinly as his legs wobbled and buckled beneath his weight. He had to cling to the nurse for a few moments as he doubled over, breathless and teary eyed. His body wasn't responding to anything, and he wondered just how much damage that damn dove had done.

He was beginning to fear that this was all a nightmare, and that he would wake up naked on his stomach a metal table, and the sound of a mechanical drill or saw would fill his ears before blinding, white hot pain and screams.

Was that how it worked? Stealing kagune?

He felt sick.

"Ah, maybe you aren't ready for this just yet…"

"I'm fine," he gasped, shooting her a frantic look. "I'm fine! Really. Just." He managed a weak smile, and he turned his eyes upward toward the ceiling. "I wasn't expecting my stomach to hurt so much."

"Well there was quite a bit of damage internally," the nurse told him gently. "You really shouldn't be standing yet, but I think it's best that you stretch your legs."

"Yeah." He straightened up, and it was a little relieving. There wasn't so much strain on his stomach any longer. "I feel better now. Thank you for helping me."

"Oh!" She beamed at him. "No, don't worry. This is my job. Let's get you to the bathroom."

"I'd like to walk myself, actually." He grasped the pole of the IV drip and wheeled it closer to his bare feet. He noted the color of his toenails. They weren't blackened and dead. How had that happened?

She objected, of course, but he already began walking, and with every step he gained an ounce of strength that he'd lacked previously. He could not sit in a hospital to rot while his friends were out there suffering.

"Well," she huffed, "if you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to your doctor! He wanted to speak with you when you woke up."

Kaneki turned slowly toward her. His… doctor…?

"Okay," he said.

Whoever his doctor was had to know he was a ghoul, right? If he'd been asleep for days, if they'd really done surgery… though none of that really made any sense…

He followed the nurse's directions until he reached a closed door. The hospital was really familiar, and he knew that this corridor was… this was…

He stepped back.

There was a black plaque beside the door, and a white engraving proclaimed the inhabitant behind the thin slab of wood.

Dr. Kanou.

Kaneki's feet slid back against the linoleum, squeaking softly like sneakers on a basketball court, and he looked around hurriedly, his eyes wide and his heart stuttering. What did he do? Where did he go? How was this even possible? How could this all be happening again?

He needed to get away from here. He needed to recollect himself, his thoughts, figure out what had happened to him before he did something he'd regret.

Just as he was turning away, moving at an agonizing pace because of the pole he had to wheel along, the door swung open. A gust of air hit his back, and his mind withered in recognition, weathered into ash, and wilted from a moment of weakness.

"Oh," Dr. Kanou said, sounding vaguely shocked but mostly amiable. "Kaneki! I didn't expect to see you out of bed so soon! How are you feeling?"

His words buzzed inside Kaneki's head.

A wave of déjà vu crashed into him, and he was drowning in the sensation that he'd been here before, that this was something he'd heard before, that this had all happened before.

No fucking way.

The man's face was a familiar sight. Something Kaneki had come to abhor, something that sparked the most primal rage inside him.

This man.

This fucking man!

Kaneki turned to face him, his fists clenching around the pole of his IV drip.

"You," he said flatly.

Kanou looked a little confused, his eyebrows arching to his gelled hair, and he leaned forward curiously.

"Yes," Kanou sighed, bowing his head. "I'm your doctor. I understand you might have some misgivings about my decision to make the transplant, but let me—"

He didn't finish his sentence. A stray wheel crashed into his cheek, the metal support slicing a nice little cut open at his cheekbone, and the doctor stumbled and half collapsed in the doorway, succumbing to the force of Kaneki's swing. The bag full of some clear, liquid medication slapped and sloshed against the air as he held the pole level and held his head high.

"You," he snapped, his voice shaking in all his unbridled rage, "don't get to give and take and meddle with life without consequence! You don't get to play god and make monsters!"

Kanou cupped his cheek in his hand, glancing up at Kaneki fearfully, and Kaneki realized this was the first time he'd ever seen this man look anything like a human being, who could understand his own mortality, and understand that he had no power over his own creation.

Good. There was satisfaction in the sight of Kanou's eyes gazing at Kaneki not with pride, but with terror.

People were shouting now, and he realized what he'd done— in a very, very public place— and he blinked rapidly. He needed to get out of here. He tore at the tape on his arms, slipping the needles and tubes from his veins, and he tossed the IV aside. He stumbled back as a group of nurses came rushing toward him, and he held his hands up as a male nurse moved toward him, likely to try to restrain him.

"Dr. Kanou," one of the nurses gasped. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Kaneki wished he could just wring the man's neck. But there were still so many things unanswered, and this had already gone way too far. He didn't want anyone else getting hurt. So he took quick, uneasy steps back, his hands still raised, and he took a deep breath.

"I want to be discharged," he said sharply. " _Today_."

And with that, he spun around and fled. He knew that there was no way he'd be able to get to Kanou without causing even more of a commotion, and he regretted hitting the man outside the door, because if he'd gone into the office to hit him, then Kaneki could have interrogated him much easier.

He'd fucked up such a golden chance!

 _That was stupid_ , he thought at himself angrily.  _Stupid and reckless! This is why you never get any answers!_

Maybe he was going about it all wrong. Maybe aggression was a bad tactic to use. He'd been pushing this route for so long, devouring and slaughtering and stomping on the severed limbs of the guilty, but perhaps he was wrong to pass judgment so swiftly and cruelly.

After all, was that not the CCG's method of dealing with ghouls?

Swiftly, cruelly, without mercy?

Kaneki needed to rethink his strategy if he wanted to get any answers.

He ran into a bathroom, pain electrifying his entire abdomen, and he doubled over in pain, wrapping his arms around his stomach and shouldering a wall as his heavy, uneven breaths tore at his uncomfortably dry throat.

This was wrong. He was wrong!

But how could he fix it now? Was it too late?

He'd wanted to go back to Anteiku. Was that even possible now?

He regretted so much so fast that it was throwing off his equilibrium.

He needed to sit down.

So he slid to his knees, resting his forehead against the cool wall, and he closed his eyes. He'd made such a mess of everything. It would have been so much better if Kanou hadn't saved him.

 _But then I wouldn't know the friends I've made_ , he reminded himself.  _Mr. Yoshimura, Irimi, Koma, Yomo, Hinami, Nishiki, Tsukiyama, Banjou, Touka… I wouldn't know any of them_ …

What a painful thought.

He let himself sit there. He couldn't be certain how long he lost himself in drifting thoughts of friends who suffered because of his own inadequacy. Pain was familiar, but this sensation was amplified by his wavering mental state. He didn't know why nothing felt right, why everything felt lethargic and dull. He didn't know why he was sickened with déjà vu. He wished it would just end so he could think clearly.

When he was finally sick to death of his own musings, he pushed himself shakily to his feet. There was no use moping about all his mistakes now. If he could just… talk to the manager… just one more time… maybe he could sort something out. Bargain with the CCG.

He didn't want to think about the fact that Kanou was out of hiding and that he'd just had surgery and there was something floating about pertaining to Rize, which made no sense because Rize was in Yomo's care, wasn't she?

Anyway, he straightened himself up, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He couldn't shake that feeling. The sensation of something dipping into his pupil, consuming iris and sclera and lashes and eyelid until the whole of the eye was sucked up into a black hole, and the soft tissue of his brain was punctured.

Death had given him a quick, vicious lobotomy. He wondered how his personality was still intact.

He wandered toward the sink, flicking it on and gathering water in his hands. His fingernails, like his toes, seemed to be a proper, healthy color, which was bemusing but not entirely surprising at this point. He splashed water into his face, scrubbing into his eyes and into the folds of his nose and around his mouth, as though it'd wash away the blood that had marred his face before he'd woken up into hell dressed like heaven.

Nothing really hurt around his face. That was so strange, considering how extreme his injuries had been. Had he dreamt that up?

He wiped at his face with a paper towel, and as he did so he caught the eye of a tired looking boy with a round face and dark hair.

It took him a moment to realize it was his reflection.

"Ah!" He stumbled back, his shoulder blade bumping into a stall, and he gaped at the mirror, his hands flying to his black hair and his fingers clawing at the roots. "What…? What is this…?"

It wasn't just his hair. His entire face had changed. It was so… healthy and youthful, and his eyes had a light in them that he didn't recognize, and that almost hurt. What was this? What kind of hell was this?

This was definitely him, of course, like of course he recognized his own reflection, but holy shit! Holy shit! Why did he look so young? He poked his own cheek, and his finger sunk into a fleshy dimple that appeared when he half-closed his mouth.

Now he was thinking. Now the dust was shifting in his mind, and he sifted aside all thoughts of Death and doves, pulling forward the recollection of that night. That night, the one that had started it all, the night Rize had attacked him and the beams had fallen from the sky and he had followed the trail of Rize's deadly little fingertips, followed the end of her gaze up into the sky where a clown laughed and laughed at their misfortune.

It felt so vivid in his head. Like it had only just happened, like he was remembering something from only a few days past, and like that fight with the doves for Anteiku was just a bad dream.

And now he was in a hospital, a familiar hospital with a familiar staff, and they were saying that he'd just had surgery, that Rize was dead, that the operation was a success, that Dr. Kanou had made that decision, and he didn't understand because this had already happened! He'd been here before and he wanted to go back! He had to save Anteiku!

People didn't just fall asleep one day and wake up a year before. It didn't work like that.

Unless this really was heaven. Was this how heaven worked? Had he… had he honestly died, and now as a reward… or punishment… he got to relive the suffering he'd gone through from the moment those beams had fallen atop Rize. From the moment fate had stolen any semblance of a human death he could ever have.

So was this heaven or hell?

Thinking back, this was undoubtedly hell.

He didn't really want to relive all that horror.

All that pain…

 _This time I can fight though_ , he thought firmly _. I can win. I can protect everyone. I can protect myself._

This time, huh?

He rested his head back against the stall, studying his own sad, round face, and he tried a tentative smile. Kaneki Ken looked so much like a little boy pining for approval. It made him sick and sad, and he wondered if he'd ever change.

He swiped his fingers through his dark hair, and he knew, of course, that he already had.

Touka's voice rung in his head, her vicious, thundering fury berating his skull.

_Why?_

She'd shouted and snarled and struck at him, her voice wavering on the brink of desperate sobs. She'd been so angry, so unbearably sad, and he knew that was his fault. He'd abandoned her because he wanted her to live her life, to do what was best for her and not for him. But even with all his good intentions he couldn't deny what he'd done. Abandonment. How utterly cruel of him.

_Why did you have to change?_

He wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her anger and her sadness and her joy, and he wanted to talk to her again, and not be scared of how much she hated him for that abandonment. He wanted his friend back. Could that be possible now? He was trying to recall if he'd ever even met Touka before he went on that awful date with Rize.

Of course he had, though, of course. He'd been a semi-regular customer at Anteiku long before he even met Rize.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps this was all an elaborate hallucination, and perhaps he'd lost himself beyond salvaging. After all, it was difficult to trust his own eyes and his own ears and his own mouth sometimes.

Who was to say any of this unpalatable replay was real?

He moved closer to the mirror, reaching out tentatively and brushing the cool surface with dripping fingertips. He noted that his nails were stubby and uneven from anxiety forcing his teeth to cut them down to size. That was an old habit. Now he clipped his nails evenly, careful to keep them neat and trimmed. Proper nail care was important when you were prone to starting fights.

Touka had taught him that, actually.

He traced the roundness of his eyes, and he wondered why they looked so big and terrified. He wasn't scared, not really. Just… anxious. And really confused. He didn't want to believe that any of this was real, because all his senses were hazy, but the pain… the pain was vivid. What the hell was clawing into his stomach, anyway?

He lifted his shirt, blinking rapidly as his eyes fell upon the bandage taped to his stomach, curving between his navel and hipbone. He poked it gingerly, and promptly hissed, a great shot of pain enveloping his belly. He squeezed his eyes shut, and he tried to will this pain away, will it all away, will this wound to seal itself.

It did not.

"Shit," he muttered, thumbing at the adhesive keeping the bandage attached to him. He debated just ripping it off, but he knew he was making a slew of bad decisions, and considering how much his stomach hurt, he figured… yeah. Better not.

He tested his forehead to feel if he was feverish, but he was neither warm nor sweating, and so he ruled out fever dreams as an explanation. His hair was soft and fluffy, so unlike the coarse, dead strands that had hung limply about his brow previously. He'd forgotten what healthy hair felt like.

When he was just about sick of his own reflection, he poked his head out the door to make sure no one was there waiting for him. He was really anxious all of a sudden. If he wasn't healing, then that meant he was vulnerable, and that was irritating. What if this was all just an elaborate trick? He honestly didn't think he was in any condition to fight anyone.

Like, he  _would_ , of course. He just wasn't sure how effective his efforts would be.

He made his way tentatively down the hall, his eyes darting around anxiously. He knew he appeared more relaxed than he felt, because… how could he not? He felt like he was going to start ripping out his hair by the single strands, like he was gonna start picking holes in his skin just to keep himself from having a panic attack.

"Um," he said, heading up to a desk. He waved awkwardly, and the woman who sat there simply stared. Maybe she'd heard already what he'd done to Kanou. Her eyes were a little large, and he could see the glimmer of uncertainty in her expression. He smiled sheepishly. "Hi. Can I go home?"

Her eyebrows rose in alarm, and he pressed his lips together as he averted his eyes nervously. Was that honestly such a weird request? Ah, maybe he'd phrased it wrong.

"I mean," he said quickly, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk, "can I have my discharge papers? And shoes?"

"It doesn't really work like that," she said slowly.

"How does it work, then?" It had been awhile since he'd last been to a hospital, and honestly it had all been such a blur.

"Well your doctor needs to clear you first," she said, swiveling her chair toward her computer. "What's your name?"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. His hesitance didn't go unnoticed, and she glanced at him sharply.

"Look," he sighed, drumming his fingers rapidly against the desk. He looked up at the ceiling. "I know this isn't how you do things. But I really need to go home."

"Your name?"

He slumped. She was glaring at him now. "Kaneki Ken," he murmured, watching his pale, stubby nails tap at the surface of the desk. "But—"

"You're cleared to go," the woman cut in, sliding a clipboard over the desk. Kaneki leaning back in shock, his fingertips freezing mid-beat. He gaped at her. Then he snatched the clipboard, arching over it and filling in all the necessary information. His handwriting was really messy from his haste, his characters all screwy in places, but he really didn't give a fuck at this point. He needed to get out of this place and breathe some fresh air. Figure out what the fuck was happening.

"Thanks," he said, sliding the clipboard back at her. She eyed him warily, but gave him a polite little nod anyway, which he was grateful for. He stood at the desk for a few moments after she reviewed his papers, staring at her expectantly. He felt really silly, like a child waiting for permission to perform a menial task. She raised her eyes to him, shooting a dull, inquisitive glance. He found himself blushing in spite of himself. "Um!" He smiled at her apologetically. "My… my shoes…?"

This time she looked apologetic.

"Oh," she gasped, blinking very fast, as though it hadn't occurred to her that he was currently barefoot. "I don't think your clothing survived the accident, but your shoes should be in your room."

"Right." He pushed off the desk and called over his shoulder as an afterthought, "Thank you!"

Okay, so shoes. Shoes, outside, and then… and then what?

Oh shit. He had to go back to his apartment.

That was so weird. Maybe he could just make a beeline for Anteiku instead?

He was really confused, and he honestly just wanted to… lie down for a little while… maybe…

Maybe his old apartment wouldn't be so bad.

 _I'll go to the apartment_ , he thought, tiptoeing back into his room.  _I'll shower and sleep a little, and then I'll go to Anteiku_. There was no nurse, so it felt safe to start shuffle through things. He found his shoes sitting on a radiator, and he dropped them onto the tile as he craned his neck to get a better look at the room.

He found his phone sitting on a little bedside table. He adjusted the backs of his shoes, eying it with some degree of distrust. Hadn't he thrown that thing away months ago?

He'd already forgotten about the whole déjà vu thing. What was he going to do if this wasn't a hallucination? If there was no waking up from this?

 _Then_ , he realized in a jolt of shock,  _I can stop all of it before it begins. I could save Anteiku_.

He could save Anteiku!

Hope enveloped his chest in a warm, lightweight blanket, and he found himself smiling. This was good. This could be a really good thing!

He scooped up his phone and marched out the door. Hope was bouncing like a little boat buoying amidst a savage monsoon. All his emotions were clashing at once to attack that little shred of light inside him, waves snapping their iron maws and spitting upon the beating sails, sour and briny as it refused to settle.

It was dimming outside. His stomach hurt, and hope was clinging for its life as anxiety clapped like thunder inside his skull, doubt falling upon him in bullet-sheets, fear knifing through him like mid-winter wind, and this all culminated upon the mast of lightheartedness with a claw-like wave of instability. He couldn't hold himself upright, and therefore his hope was lost to the sea of despair that was welling up inside him.

How could he believe something like… like time travel? Was that what this could be called? Returning to his body when it'd been weak and fragile and spotless.

Wait, was that it? Was his body so shaky and achy because it hadn't been tempered into steel?

Ah. What could he even do to remedy that? He certainly did not want to be tortured again.

People were looking at him strangely as he walked. The warm air was kissing his bare arms, and a light breeze shuffled with his hair. The day was unwinding before him, the scent of pavement cooling and car exhaust filling his nostrils, and it was the barest of comforts.

His pocket began to buzz, and he jumped, standing at an intersection near his apartment. All the walking he'd done had drained him of energy, but his stomach wasn't hurting so much anymore. When he yanked his phone out of his pocket, it was still buzzing.

Multiple texts at once.

 _Hide_ , he thought, his stomach tying in knots.

Terror wailed in his ears, crooning like a witch's lullaby and lashing his cheeks like the bite of a whip. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Hide.

Hide!

He'd forgotten about Hide!

There was no wondering or supposing or puzzling out why Hide had been pushed out of his mind.

He did not question it.

The monsoon of clashing emotions was crushed down by an iron fist. The battered ship which had housed all his hope bobbed on the surface of his mind, and it was guided gently into safety.

Hide… Hide was where it had to start.

He had to fix all his mistakes. And Hide had been the first of a very long line of missteps.

He didn't even bother with checking the texts. He just went ahead and called him.

The tone rung for a bit. That gave Kaneki time to ease up the stairs of his building.

There was a flutter of happiness toying in his knotted gut as the tone was cut off by a bright, booming voice.

" _YOU'RE AWAKE_!" Hide had shouted it so loudly that Kaneki had to twist the receiver from his ear, wincing as the sound rung against his eardrum and lingered there. " _YO. Yo, yo, yo, yo, okay, sorry, I'm cool, I'm good. I can't believe you actually called. Holy shit. You missed me that much, huh? Ha_!"

Kaneki took a deep, shaky breath. There were tears in his eyes. He was smiling like a fool as he leaned against a railing for support. Hearing Hide's voice was such an incredible relief.

He decided he did not care if this déjà vu world he'd awoken into was real or not.

This was exactly where he wanted to be.

Death be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> redormio, redormire. [intr]  
> to go back to sleep (again)


	2. fateri

Only an immensely stubborn person could choose not to learn from their mistakes.

It'd be easier to walk down a familiar path, beaten by his own feet, charted by his own hand, instead of darting into a great unknown. But what choice did he have when the familiar path ended in a pitfall?

He had to fix the mistakes of yesterday. And all that stared with Hide.

"Hey," he said, speaking in a hoarse voice, for his throat had constricted on its own accord. He cleared it hurriedly, taking quick strides toward his apartment door. He thumbed the mantle, reaching with rapidly drumming fingers to find the spare key he'd long since hidden. "Um… hi."

" _You sound terrible_ ," Hide remarked brightly. " _Do you want me to head over there after class? I took a bunch of notes for you, since I know you'll tear your hair out trying to catch up, and I can bring you some real food, since I bed hospital grub is like, cookie cutter cardboard shit_."

Hide hardly took a breath when he spoke. He had a loud, piercing voice that poured and overflowed like a guttering waterfall, roaring and sharp and unmistakably natural. No one could blame a waterfall for its volume, and that was just the way with Nagachika Hide.

Kaneki rested his forehead against his door, his eyes closed contentedly as he simply listened. It was a relief to hear his voice.

He was so safe and distant from all the horror. Did Kaneki really want to drag him into it?

 _Remember the alternative_ , a dark voice murmured from the back of his brain, the whisper shuddering like winter wind and spreading to the front of his head. His entire skull felt the chill. His eyes snapped open.

" _Kaneki_?" A slight spike of worry trickled into Hide's tone. " _Don't worry about it, buddy, I can visit tomorrow or something, if it's too much right now_."

"No, no, that's not it!" Kaneki snatched the key from the mantle, stumbling back from his door and taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm a little, um…" He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes flashing around the hall. "Out of it…? I guess…? I don't think the morphine's fully gone away yet."

" _Oh, so you're high? That explains it_!" Hide barked a sharp, hearty laugh. " _This is truly a momentous occasion! I've never had the pleasure of witnessing a high Kaneki Ken! Please, please, narrate the intricate details of your trip_!"

"It's not that kind of high, Hide," Kaneki told him gently.

" _Boo. You're so disappointing_."

Kaneki found himself smiling, running his thumb over the surface of his house key. It was an incredible thing to speak to Hide so frivolously, free of anxieties and free of uncertainties. It was as though there had been a great divide between them before, and now Kaneki could experience the weightlessness of having a best friend again.

"So I've been told," he said, stepping up to his door to unlock it. "Listen, you can go ahead and visit me."

" _Ah! Really? Awesome, I'll be at the hospital_ —"

"I'm not at the hospital," Kaneki cut in sharply, turning the key and pushing his door open. There was a blast of nostalgia upon the simple aroma of his old apartment hitting his nostrils. It wasn't any particularly strong scent. It just smelled familiar and distinct, as any home might. The vague dwelling of a college student always smells so very stale and warm, the fluctuation between underuse and overuse shooting lines on a heart monitor.

" _Excuse me_?" Hide's frown was so loud that it had an actual, legitimate sound. It sounded like a child's feet stomping impudently. " _Where are you, then_?"

"I went home."

" _You went_ home _? Hold on a minute, let me ring the dumbass bell_!" Hide whistled three sharp, vicious little notes into Kaneki's ear. They pierced through his eardrum, and he winced from the shock of the pitch. " _Ding, dong! Looks like we've got a total dummy on our hands! Time to initiate emergency protocol_."

"I'm fine, Hide," Kaneki sighed. "Honestly, they wouldn't have let me go home otherwise."

" _You were like, in a coma, bro, you do understand that, right_?"

"And now I'm awake and in my living room." Kaneki kicked his door shut. A chill ran down his spine, for everything around him was so immaculately displaced, perfectly out of order, frozen in dishevelment. A dead boy had left his home one day without tidying, and there were traces of his life smeared across this pretty still life painting he'd walked into. Notes strewn about the table, a textbook fallen open on the floor, a backpack resting against a wall, open and overflowing with books and pens. There was a mug of half-drunk coffee resting on the table beside the strewn about notes, white film floating on the murky brown surface.

" _Okay, just making sure_." Hide's tone had changed from sarcastic to easygoing. " _I'll be there soon, okay? I'm gonna skip my night class, so do you want me to pick something up? I can grab some snacks or a movie, or something_."

"Don't skip class for me, Hide," Kaneki gasped, feeling mildly guilty, but also irritatingly pleased.

" _Nah, don't worry, I've got a guy who'll let me copy his notes. So snacks? I can find that funky popcorn that you put on the stove, and it makes like a weather balloon before exploding, we could_ —"

"No, don't bring any food." Kaneki was sad. The mere idea that Hide was proposing, having a movie night and making popcorn and simply enjoying the company of the other, that sounded so sweet and normal and enticing, but it was impossible. "I'm… having trouble keeping stuff down right now."

" _Oh. Right, no food then. I'm still renting a movie, though. Let's do a comedy! American, do you think? Oh, we could do older movies. Have you ever seen_ Citizen Kane?"

"Um, no."

" _No?_ Rosebud _? No_?" He was saying things in English that made no sense to Kaneki, and at this point he was wondering if Hide was just throwing random English words together.

"Was it a book first?" Kaneki offered. "I might have heard of it if there was a book."

" _You're hopeless_." Hide scoffed. " _I'm getting it. I'll enrich your cinema history. It's like one of the greatest films of all time_."

"Okay…"

" _Okay_!" Hide sounded very pleased. " _I'll be there soon. In case you're thinking of changing the locks before I get there_."

"You don't have a key, so I don't see why that would matter."

" _Oh. Do I not have a key_?" Hide laughed nervously. " _Of course. Of course, I mean it's, it's not like I had one made, or anything_ —!"

"Hide. What the hell?"

" _It was a joke. Because you keep your spare key in the most obvious place_." Hide sighed loftily. " _I'm surprised you didn't get mortally wounded sooner, honestly_."

"I'm hanging up," Kaneki said, though he didn't really want to.

" _Fine, fine, I'll be there in a few_." And then Hide hung up, leaving Kaneki feeling both giddy and horrified. Because now he had to deal with this. He had to deal with Hide. How strange that was, to actually confront him.

The first thing Kaneki did was grab the mug from the table and dump its contents out into the sink, for the scent of days old coffee was nauseating. He washed out the glass, noting the dirty dishes in the sink and cursing his past self for being so lazy and comfortable in his life that he didn't consider the possibility of being suddenly uprooted in the near future. Past Kaneki, he decided, was a total imbecile.

He wanted to shower, but he wasn't sure if he'd have time, since Hide was ungodly fast when he wanted to be. He was also keenly aware of his clothing, the powder blue hospital garb that someone had placed him in. He didn't like that. He didn't like the idea that someone had dressed him without his consent, even if it was necessary and inevitable.

His stomach was no longer hurting, which was mildly concerning. He'd been asleep for his transition into a ghoul, both figuratively and literally, but knowing now what he knew, everything felt out of place within him. Was it that he was unused to a human body?

Well, anyway. He'd deal with it. Even if this body was significantly weaker than the one he'd left behind, he could find a way around that. He had to, right? If he wanted to protect everyone.

As time ticked by, and he grew more anxious, he decided to shower for the sake of easing his nerves. He left the door unlocked and put a note on the coffee table, figuring that Hide, being Hide, would simply walk in if his knock was not answered within thirty seconds. He went to the bathroom, taking a spare pair of clothes with him, and peeled the flimsy hospital shirt off. His body was just as flimsy, but Kaneki saw more meat on his bones than he was used to. His ribs were barely visible. The bandage that covered his surgical scar also covered a healthy bit of fat, which had previously been hard muscle.

He decided to do away with that bandage. The scar was ugly and pink, stitches clinging to the taut flesh. He turned on the water, watching it gutter and spit from the showerhead, and he traced the scar idly. Scars. How foreign these things had become.

Showering proved to be for the best. He leaned into the hot water, relief tingling in his joints and his uncoiling muscles. He hadn't thought about it until now, until the solace of the steam and water pressure hit him, but he was sad. He was sad as hell. He didn't know what he was going to do. He was still living in disbelief, feeling that he might wake up to the horror of the Anteiku raid at any given moment.

 _Why am I back here_ , he wondered,  _and what am I supposed to do now?_

Screaming would be nice. It'd settle his toiling thoughts and feelings. Yes. Screaming would be fantastic.

He didn't scream, though.

He just let the water do its job, and wash away the grime of today, of yesterday, and prepare him for the mud of tomorrow.

He exited the shower quickly, hearing someone moving around outside the bathroom door. That was his cue. He dried himself as hastily as he could, throwing his clothes on haphazardly. He didn't know what he was going to do with Hide. With… everything. This was just all so sudden, all so confusing, and he was not even remotely prepared.

"Yo, Kaneki!"

Hide was lounging on Kaneki's couch. He sat up as Kaneki exited the bathroom, waving in an idle but frantic manner.

"You look lively," he remarked, smiling big and bright and bold, his eyes lighting up so intensely that the corners of them crinkled from the strain.

"Do I?" Kaneki asked faintly. He didn't feel very alive right now. He didn't think it'd be particularly polite to ask if maybe, possibly, he was dead. It seemed to be the only explanation.

"Uh, no." Hide rolled his eyes, still beaming. "You honestly look really bad. A living corpse. You need to eat something."

"Never mind that." Kaneki tussled his hair with his towel, hoping it'd dry quickly. It was shorter than he was used to. "Hide… listen. I have to talk to you."

"Talk then?" Hide looked curious. As Kaneki stared at him, he began to realize that Hide…

Hide was someone that Kaneki had never understood.

If Nagachika Hideyoshi were a novel, he would be written by Ernest Hemingway. He was the theory of omission personified, and that was terrifying to behold.

How had Kaneki lived so long in this rotation without realizing he knew nothing about the sun he was circulating?

"What?" Hide tilted his head. "What's that look for?"

"Hm?" Kaneki blinked rapidly, and he laughed, scratching his chin. "I'm just glad to see you, that's all."

"Oh yeah?" Hide shot him a wicked grin. "You missed me. Admit it."

"I missed you," Kaneki said, dropping his hand to his side. He glanced up at the ceiling, anxiety knotting up in his stomach. He was making assumptions based on the future-past, presuming that Hide would take everything fine, that there would be no weirdness between that. That was foolish. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, sure." Hide draped his arms over the side of the couch. "What do you want?"

Kaneki strode up to the couch so he was hovering over Hide, his shadow yawning and swallowing him up, from the dark roots of his hair to the dark dirt clinging to the soles of his sneakers.

"Hit me," he said, staring into the warm brown blend of Hide's eyes. "As hard as you possibly can."

Hide stared back, unblinking, unflinching, and he raised his chin in an odd form of defiance. He did not believe Kaneki was serious, or if he did, he found the request to be amusing.

"Oh?" He stretched his limbs, standing upright with a spring in his step. He glanced at Kaneki, and his lips quirked. "So, what? Who's…?" He said a name rapidly, something that might have been English if it were not garbled by his Japanese tongue. It made no sense to Kaneki, but Hide continued as though the name had come out clearly. "Because you didn't strike me as the type."

"What?"

" _Fight Club_." Hide's forehead pinched. "Did I say that right?"

"No." Kaneki averted his gaze, thinking hard. "Tyler Durden?"

"Oh, yeah! That guy! Brad Pitt." This name came out much more smoothly than the last.

"Brad Pitt?"

"Did you not watch the movie?" Hide groaned. "Are you  _serious,_  there's a book? I didn't know there was a book."

"I liked it better than the movie."

"You're so typical, Kaneki," Hide groaned. "This is just like you. Is the book any good?"

"I don't remember it very well, I read it in middle school." He ran his hand through his wet hair, considering Hide's words. "But yeah, I liked it. The ending was different, which is why I liked it better, I think. There was some finality to it that the movie didn't really deliver, though I guess exploding buildings just seemed like a better cinematic feat than a psych ward— please stop me at any time, I know I'm rambling."

"No, no." Hide was cupping his chin, his feigned interest too strong to ignore. He waved slowly. "You keep going. It's not like I'm gonna read the book. So wait, what happened at the end?"

"The narrator thought he died," Kaneki said slowly, "that he went to heaven, when in reality he was in a mental hospital."

 _I can sleep in heaven_.

Kaneki would like to test that.

"Wow." Hide whistled low. "That's definitely something."

"Hide," Kaneki said, "I was serious. I want you to hit me."

"Why?"

"I just want to test something, okay?"

"Well, I mean, okay," Hide said, holding up his hands and smiling sheepishly. "But here's the thing, bro." He shrugged, a heavy lift of his shoulders signifying the guilt weighing on them. "I don't want to."

"Please?"

"You just got out of the hospital." Hide shook his head. "Is this really necessary? Didn't you want to tell me something? Oh crap, are you  _dying_?"

"No, I'm not dying."  _I'm already dead_. "Just hit me."

"Nah."

"Hide!"

"Kaneki," he mocked.

Okay, so Kaneki was getting mildly irritated. It was a familiar irritation, which he knew he often felt toward Hide. But Kaneki didn't know what to do. Could he punch himself, see what would happen? No, it wouldn't have the same effect. He couldn't punch himself with enough force.

"I don't want to make you," Kaneki said desperately.

Hide's eyes brightened with curiosity, and his eyebrows arched. "Can you do that?" he asked. "No, no, this I want to see. How could you make me punch you?"

Kaneki sighed. Right. So it came down to this, then?

He took a deep breath. He feared his throat might constrict. And then he began.

"Why are you my friend?" he asked in the cool, vacant voice he'd once used on Madam A, the bite true and clear behind his words. "We're nothing alike. Or are we? You must know me pretty well. That's nice. I don't know you at all, I don't think. I don't know why you stick around me, and I don't know why you put up with me, because I'm needy and selfish— or maybe that's exactly why, because you're just the same. Is that your secret? Am I wrong? Are we nothing alike, or are we everything alike? No." He stuck his index finger in Hide's face as he opened his mouth to object. "Don't answer. Listen. I don't want an answer for the reason why you are the way you are— you couldn't possibly answer that, could you? Could you tell me why you're so incredibly friendly and charismatic, but you keep everyone at a distance? Why do you do that? Why did you stay away? Why not come talk to me? I don't understand you. I don't think I've ever understood you a day in my life. That's scary. Would you believe I'm scared of you? I think that's something that should have been apparent. I was terrified of you. I see you, but what I see is completely different from what is really there. Why is that? I'm a liar, yeah, I know that. You know that too. You know exactly how fake I am, but I wonder, do you even realize that you're  _just_ as fake?"

He took a breath, tears stinging his eyes. Hide had raised a hand. Kaneki closed his eyes, praying, praying for the blow. He needed it more than he needed nourishment after this outpour of intermingled truths and lies.

Hide's hand rested gently on Kaneki's cheek, and his eyes snapped open. Hide smiled sadly.

"Yes," he admitted. "I thought that was why we were so close. You really are a dummy, aren't you?"

The tears were licking Kaneki's lashes, and he couldn't stand it. He didn't know how Hide could be so calm in the face of so many accusations. Kaneki's words were hurtful and spiteful and they were thorns grinding against his larynx. Why was Hide so calm, then?

"Damn it, Hide," Kaneki gasped, whirling away and dashing his tears away as he moved lethargically toward his kitchenette. "I didn't want to do this."

"I'm sorry my pacifism has inconvenienced your dramatic flair," Hide remarked thickly, his words a little slurred. Perhaps he was as close to tears as Kaneki was. Perhaps Kaneki's words had hit him, but Hide was just… Hide was just not the type of person Kaneki was after all.

That probably made sense. Hide was an iceberg, after all, according to Hemingway's theory of omission. And Kaneki didn't think he reached that depth. No, he was the Titanic. All boast of invincibility. Unsinkable until, of course, fate set his course toward a headlong collision.

Kaneki snatched a knife from a drawer, the kind of kitchen knife used for chopping peppers and meat. Hide's eyes widened considerably. Yeah, that was to be expected. Kaneki had been holding back the throttle of his mind, but now he just wanted to prove something, and there was nothing more dangerous than a man with everything to prove.

"Kaneki," Hide said weakly. "Buddy. I got what you were trying to do. With the whole calling me out on my shit thing. That's why I didn't punch you. I might have, really, I almost did, but I figured it out."

"Because you know me so well," Kaneki said coldly.

"Well, quite frankly, yeah!" Hide took a few careful strides forward, eying the knife bemusedly. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't visit you at the hospital. I should have. Is that what this is about?"

"No." Kaneki didn't know why that would be an issue. Hide was probably just making assumptions based on accusations for actions he did not even commit yet. Or, rather, lack of action. Theory of omission. Kaneki was pretty good at that too. Was he not avoiding the truth now?

"Then I haven't got a clue." Hide threw his hands up in defeat. "You got me. I'm speechless. Holy shit, Kaneki, did you get me. I really have no idea what's going on!"

"Is that a first for you?"

"What is with you?" Hide's nose wrinkled as though he'd just bitten into rotten fruit. "So what, I don't say what I'm thinking all the time, is that a crime now?"

"This honestly isn't about that, Hide," Kaneki murmured, looking down at his feet. "I'm sorry, none of that… none of it had anything to do with anything. I was just trying to make you mad."

"You just made me sad, you know."

Kaneki nodded. He figured. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick from unshed tears. He met Hide's eye, and he smiled tremulously. "I'll explain. Just… just give me a moment." And so he lifted his shirt up, déjà vu delivering the punch Hide had withheld as he closed his teeth around the hem and clutched the handle of the knife with both hands.

"Kaneki, what the fuck are you doing?"

So, truthfully, Kaneki didn't know what was going to happen. He figured he might have transitioned enough to have a ghoul body. But hardly even a few hours ago his abdomen had been on fire from post-surgery pain.

He couldn't say if he was a ghoul or not. If he was alive or not.

Schrödinger's ghoul.

Hide's cry of shock and fear collided with the strident sound of metal bending. Kaneki felt no pain as the knife struck his stomach. He let his shirt fall from between his teeth, and he admired the deformed metal with dull interest.

It was almost a disappointment.

He bowed his head, feeling so ashamed for all his cruel words and all his thoughtless actions. He had done this for Hide's benefit, to help him better comprehend, to make everything clearer, but there were things that he knew were better off said than shown, and this communication block between them had already hurt their friendship enough.

Hide was suddenly before him, his mouth wide open in a gape, his finger pointed toward the twisted knife.

"That both the coolest and most terrifying thing you've ever done," he gasped.

"Um…" Kaneki glanced down at the knife. "I…" He took a quick step back, shooting Hide an irritated glance. "Why do you take everything so  _well_?"

"I don't know." Hide blinked rapidly, and he offered a meager little shrug. "Why do you take everything so seriously?"

This was frustrating. But also somewhat relieving. Hide, it seemed, was not one to get upset easily. Anger seemed to be a foreign emotion to him.

"I just… tried to stab myself…"

"Obviously not very well." Hide tilted his head. "Though, I mean, the whole metal bending thing is weird, I'll admit it."

"Hide, this is what I wanted to tell you." Kaneki set the twisted knife aside, Hide's eyes following it sharply. He looked like he wanted to take it and examine it more closely, but he restrained himself. "I just… I wasn't sure if you'd believe me without some proof."

"Are you Superman?" Hide asked brightly.

"Hide." Kaneki sighed very deeply, turning his eyes toward the ceiling. "Rize… was a ghoul."

Hide stared vacantly. He had no response, so Kaneki decided to continue.

"She was a ghoul, and Dr. Kanou put her organs inside me," he said, folding his arms gingerly across his stomach. His voice was shaking. Hide's voice was ringing inside his head.  _Dude, I knew the whole time_.

Hide looked at him, his bright face seeming to dim a bit. He rested his hand against the countertop, leaning heavily upon it as he stared pensively somewhere beyond Kaneki's face. That made him nervous, the sight of Hide actually thinking instead of just spouting his usual nonsense.

Then Hide's eyes flashed staidly to Kaneki's.

"Who else knows about this?" he asked.

Kaneki was taken aback. This was the first time Hide was reacting somewhat normally to the odd situation, and this was frankly the scariest thing to happen all day. He couldn't think of the right words to say, his eyes darting from Hide's face as he tried to summon up his mind from the depths of his anxiety, which had swallowed it whole.

"Just… just you, I think," Kaneki stammered. "And, um, Dr. Kanou, obviously."

"So he was aware that Miss Rize was a ghoul when he performed the operation?"

"Yes…?" Kaneki had never seen Hide sound so flat and emotionless before. Was this the thing that he'd been hiding? Was this why Hide hadn't confronted Kaneki about anything? Was this the Hide behind the mask?

Hide raised his face. And he smiled.

Kaneki found himself relaxing. No. Hide was not that kind of person.

"That's good," Hide said. He reached out, and he clapped Kaneki on the shoulder. "Don't tell anyone else."

"Hide, that's…" Kaneki had not considered that maybe isolationism would be the best way to go on this new path. He didn't want to close himself off. He wanted to go back to Anteiku after this Hide situation was dealt with.

"We don't really know how the surgery has affected your body, beyond like, the rock solid abs thing." Hide pressed his lips together thinly, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "We should test this stuff out, first, before we take any extreme measures."

"Hide." Kaneki lifted Hide's hand from his shoulder, and he forced Hide to look him in the eye. There was a surprising amount of unwavering determination there. "I am a ghoul. I can't eat normal food anymore, it tastes disgusting. I have a kagune."

"A kagune?"

He didn't sound quite as surprised as Kaneki would have expected.

"It's like… another limb, something that ghouls use to defend themselves." He shrugged weakly. "I haven't had the chance to really test it out yet."

"Well, shit, Kaneki!" Hide cried, his eyes glowing brightly as he took a few long strides back. "What are you waiting for? Let's see it!"

"Are you joking?"

"No. I wish you would've shown me that first, instead of trying to get me to punch you. You're so dramatic."

Obediently, Kaneki rolled up the back of his shirt, willing Rize's rinkaku to slither out from its hiding place at the hollow of his spine. He could hear it click and snap at his skin, hissing upon release and curling defensively around him. He stared at gleaming red scales, and he noted that there were only two arms, when there should have been four. Perhaps he was not powerful enough just yet.

"Oh, wow!" Hide's eyes glittered with wonder. "That's amazing! And you can move them and stuff, like any old limb?"

"Yes." He let the kagune rise and fall, a little waving motion that made Hide laugh. "There should be more than two, though…"

"Hm?" Hide frowned, and then he continued to laugh. "Oh, well I wouldn't worry too much. I'll bet you're just tired. Or hungry."

Kaneki's gut twisted at the suggestion of hunger. Hide spoke of it so flippantly, it was almost as if the idea of Kaneki consuming human flesh was beyond his comprehension.

"Also, is that eye thing permanent? Or is it only when you use your kagune?"

Kaneki's finger flew to his eye, feeling the protrusion of veins along the crinkling corner, and he swallowed hard. "It's not permanent," he said quietly, "but I can wear an eye patch to be safe."

"No, don't do that if you don't have to. You'll just stick out." Hide shook his head, and he leaned his back against Kaneki's counter. "What we need to worry about now is food. I don't know how we're going to manage it, but I'll think of something."

"What?" Kaneki blurted, his heart stuttering in shock of what Hide was implicating. "Hide, that isn't your problem!"

"You're trusting me with this secret, aren't you?" Hide glanced at him with large eyes. "Of course it's my problem. Are you honestly planning on doing this alone, and potentially murdering someone?"

"I won't do that!"

"Of course you won't," Hide said firmly. "I won't let you."

"And what are you going to do?" Kaneki banished his kagune, marching up to him and scowling. "You're human, and you don't know a thing about ghouls!"

"And you do?" Hide's voice was thin and mocking.

Kaneki couldn't respond. It was one thing to tell Hide that he was a ghoul, but to tell Hide that he'd come from the future was a bit much. There was no explaining that to anyone, and Kaneki knew it.

Hide hummed, nodding slowly in a little bounce of his head. "I thought not," he said. "Like I said, I'll think of something. Until then, please." He kicked off Kaneki's counter, moving with a strong, deliberate gait. "Don't do anything rash."

"Hide," Kaneki said in a small, weak voice. "Who do you think I am?"

Hide smiled. He laughed.

Because he knew Kaneki would not listen to a word he said.

* * *

When Hide left, Kaneki was left to his own devices. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but it left him feeling pretty hollow, and that was annoying because he'd hoped that telling Hide would fix everything bad, but it just… it hadn't. And now Kaneki didn't know what to do.

He sat on his bed for a little while, his knees pressed up against his chest and his mouth buried into them. His hair had dried by now, and it curled across his brow, wispy and thick. He didn't feel like combing it.

Hide was a complete mystery. That was becoming exceedingly apparent, and Kaneki's mind kept winding back to all those harsh words he'd said, and how Hide had just shrugged it off, and that was so confusing because Hide was too damn rational! Anyone else would have attacked him.

Hell, Touka would have made him eat dirt if he'd even dared to speak a word against her.

Touka…

He turned his face toward the clock. It was late. Nearly midnight. Did he dare? Did he truly want to tempt fate any further than he already had today?

Um. Yes.

He threw his legs over the side of his bed, fumbling for his sneakers and jamming his feet into them. He fled his apartment, making his way into the darkened streets with an unbelievable haste. He ran, his sneakers clapping against the sidewalks and his breath beating against the gentle thrum of Tokyo's midnight sounds. Cities didn't sleep. Cars were still blurring past, music was still trickling from windows and open doors, people were still congregating on street corners, and Kaneki passed them all by with a great resolve. The wind hit his face, and he followed a familiar path, winding between buildings with ease.

When he made it to the alleyway behind Anteiku, he doubled over and panted, his stomach cramping up from the length of the run. This body was so frail and weak and out of shape, not to mention the strain of the surgery scar. Kaneki felt the string of his stitches pulling taut, threatening to snap.

So he leaned against a wall, breathless and teary eyed, trying to swallow down the drumming of his heart in his throat.

It was well past midnight now, and Anteiku should've closed up about an hour ago. Touka might not even be awake.

Just to spite him, fate struck him once more. The back door of Anteiku opened, and Kirishima Touka shouldered through the threshold, dragging a garbage bag behind her. She didn't seem to notice him at first, moving sluggishly toward a trashcan. She tossed the bag into it, the resounding crash causing Kaneki to jump. Her eyes flashed toward him.

They were both very still. City sounds blanketed their silence as stars might blanket the vacuity of space.

"No loitering," she said flatly, turning her face from him. "Scram."

"Wait," he said, moving into the light of the single lamp beside Anteiku's door. It splashed across his face, and she eyed him warily. "I need help."

She squinted at him. And he stared at her. Her silence cut him deep, cut him swift and sharp, cut him to the bone and rung in his head as it bled him out.

He'd forgotten how beautiful and brutal this girl could be.

She turned fully to face him, and shadows swept over her round, smooth face. There was a darkness to her eyes, a hollowness to her gaze that Kaneki was not used to. She stared through him. She felt nothing. She regarded him as she might regard a telephone pole. Acknowledgement only in avoidance. She'd round about him to avoid collision, and then promptly forget his existence.

And he looked at her as though he were a child gazing upon a total solar eclipse. He could not know how dangerous and blinding beauty was.

He was always weak in the face of beautiful things.

"So?" She lifted her chin haughtily. Ah, how proud she was. Kaneki had forgotten. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help me."

"You don't look desperate enough to want my help." She rolled her eyes. "Take my advice. Go home."

"I can't." He saw her eyes shift in the darkness, wary and wild, dark and deadly. She would crush him if he overstepped, if he came too close, if he uttered the wrong word. And then she took a look at him, and her face transformed.

"You," she said, her eyes widening in shock. Kaneki felt a jolt of hope run through him, misguided as it was. "You're dead."

He didn't reply. To reply, either way, would be a lie.

So he exhaled, and the city echoed back with breaths of life circulating through vacated streets. Touka didn't seem to know what to do or say, which was refreshing. Finally. Someone else at a loss.

She leaned forward, squinting at him as though perhaps she had missed something upon the first few times she'd scrutinized him. Slowly, she began a predatory movement, circling him round and round. He followed her gaze, turning with her, and feeling that she was moving to an imaginary orchestra, her heels barely scraping the ground, her ankles crossing and uncrossing. She was slender and quick footed, a dancer if Kaneki had ever seen one.

"You should be dead," she told him, stopping less than a meter from him, so close that her familiar scent burned his nose. He knew her scent as he might know Hide's, a familiar onslaught of ground coffee beans overpowering flowery perfume. "Why didn't Rize kill you?"

"She definitely tried." He stared into her face, wondering if he had any expression on his own. "Do you believe me now? That I need your help?"

"No." Her voice was as biting as ever. She was consistently chafing against him, resisting any temptation to be comfortable in his presence. She would rather break her own back than show him a glimmer of weakness. It was something he sorely admired. "I don't know who you are, and I don't care. Go back to wherever the hell you came from." And she whirled away, marching toward the door, ready to abandon him.

His heart thudded in his throat, and he wished he could rid himself of it, because it was screwing with his head.

"I guess all ghouls are the same, huh?" His voice was dislocated from his body. He was shaky, frightened, but his voice was cold and vicious. It struck her visibly, snapping at her back, leaving a long, thin whiplash upon her spine. Her face turned sharply, dangerously poised against her left shoulder as her eyes grew shadowy and dark.

"What the hell would you know about ghouls?" she spat.

He stared at her. He bowed his head, and he took a shaky breath. "Nothing," he said. It was only half a lie. "But I know one thing. Someone put Rize's organs in me." He raised his head, and he took a short step toward her. "I am not going to pretend like I can keep living in ignorance, that ghouls do not exist, when right now I  _am_  one."

Her brow furrowed. She was looking at him now with less contempt, and more openness. The shadow over her eyes lifted, and when she looked at him, there was a hint of curiosity there. She looked at him from sneakers to tussled hair, a quick, judging gaze.

He had spoken deliberately to not offend her, as he had the first time.

"Humans can't just become ghouls," she said.

"It's possible, and it happened." He bit the inside of cheek, noting how annoyed she looked. "I can't eat humans when I am human. I can't do that."

"Then you're not a ghoul," she said briskly. "And if you're not a ghoul, then I can't help you."

"But I  _am_  a ghoul," Kaneki gasped. "I can't eat human food, but I can't eat humans either. What am I supposed to do?"

She glanced at him, her eyelids half-folding over her eyes.

"Starve," she said simply.

He stood, feeling the return of her disdain as it fell upon him in rapid bursts. She was glowering fiercely. How she hated, how fiercely and totally, without any form of pity, was something he had imitated in another life. But now he was back to being Kaneki Ken, lowly and powerless.

"I'd like to talk to the manager," he said.

For the first time, she was utterly taken aback. Her mouth dropped open, and her shoulders tensed up, and she took a step back.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I need help," he said coolly, brushing past her. "And you clearly have something against humans." That wasn't true, of course. He knew it wasn't true. But he liked the way it hit her, the way it made her bristle.

"Excuse me?" Her voice had heightened considerably in pitch, and he blinked as she snatched him by the arm, her grip so rough and heavy that the pressure of her fingertips bruised the tender skin of his bicep. He stumbled to a stop, nearly head-butting her by accident. "You've been a ghoul for all of what, five minutes? And you think you can just come to me, and fucking assume that you know even an ounce of what life as a ghoul is like?" She threw him against Anteiku's door, and his spine collided painfully with the wood, a hollow sound echoing through the alley. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

He grimaced a bit from the pain, rubbing his arm where her fingers had imprinted themselves. "You can call me Kaneki," he offered, hoping it sounded less sarcastic and more amiable.

"Fuck you, Kaneki." She walked up to him, ease in her step, and she lifted her chin high. "Fuck your rotten luck, and fuck your condescending nonsense. Do you honestly figure you're something fucking special? That because you were born human, that the laws of being a ghoul somehow exclude you? Go crawl back beneath the fucking rock you squirmed out of."

"If you feel that way," Kaneki whispered, "then why don't you go ahead and eat a ghoul?"

She stood stock straight, looking as though he'd just struck her.

"I don't think I'm better than you, Touka," he told her gently. "I just can't consciously eat my own kind."

Her mouth fell open. Her eyes were so furious, he thought she was going to attack him again. Luckily the door opened behind him, and he stumbled forward, to keep himself from crashing into the trash can.

Kaneki felt his face light up as he came face to face with Yoshimura. He was peering into the darkened alley, looking upon Touka with a mild expression.

"I heard a struggle," he said. He turned his face toward Kaneki, who'd managed to school his expression quickly. "Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," Touka said through gritted teeth. "Just taking out the trash."

Kaneki knew Touka well enough to understand that was some particularly dark shade thrown at him.

"Excuse me, sir," Kaneki said, stepping between him and Touka. He could feel her glaring at his back, the intensity of her stare making his stomach knot up. "Can I speak to you? Privately?"

Yoshimura's eyebrows rose, but he smiled amiably, and he nodded. "Of course. Come with me." He gestured into the depths of Anteiku, and Touka scoffed behind Kaneki. "Touka, if you are done then I suggest you go to bed. It's very late, and you shouldn't be on duty."

"I offered," she said defensively.

"That's all very well, but you should still get some rest."

When Kaneki glanced back at her, her jaw was set and her shoulders were squared. She brushed past them both, her fists clenched at her sides, and Kaneki watched her sadly.

He'd hated this part, assuming that Touka hated him. He wanted to skip to the part where they were on friendly terms, and he didn't take her harsh words so seriously.

"Don't take Touka's behavior to heart," Yoshimura said, holding the door open for Kaneki to step inside. "I can assure you it's not personal."

"Right."

Yoshimura led him to a row of refrigerators, as he had the first time, and Kaneki watched him pull out a small package of meat. It wasn't Kaneki's intention to start eating humans, but he also had the intention of becoming strong. And he wasn't in the position to be hunting ghouls to eat.

"Let's give you one package for now." Yoshimura turned, offering out the carefully packaged human meat. "Come back when you need to. There's no need to be shy."

"I'm actually not…" Kaneki stared at the package weakly. Yoshimura watched him from beneath heavily lidded eyes. Kaneki sighed, and he took the package. If only to be polite. "Um… would it be okay if I asked you a few questions?"

"Of course." Yoshimura closed the fridge door, and turned completely to face him. "I'm sure you have many misgivings, but I assure you no one was murdered for the sake of your dinner."

"Ah." Kaneki couldn't very well say he knew that already, so he nodded. "Okay, that's… that's good to know…" He glanced down at his feet. He didn't know why he was so nervous. He knew Yoshimura. But… Yoshimura didn't know him. No one knew him. That was awful. "Is eating humans the only way? Can't I find nutrition from an outside source?"

"It is the only way," Yoshimura confirmed gravely. "I'm sorry. I understand that this is difficult for you. But you are a ghoul now. Kaneki, was it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Kaneki," Yoshimura said, smiling down at him. "You need nothing to fear. Anteiku will provide for you as long as you need."

"Thank you," he said politely. "That means… that means a lot…" He took a deep breath. He was thinking about the Anteiku raid again, how… how badly things had ended up… and what could he do now to stop that? What could he do differently? He had no idea what events had even caused it to happen, so how could he prevent it?

"You seem to have a lot on your mind." Yoshimura tilted his head. "Why don't you come back tomorrow, and we'll discuss this matter further. We'll have to integrate you into ghoul culture somehow, or else you'll be walking blind."

"That's a good idea." Kaneki sounded very sad, and he could tell that Yoshimura noticed, because he opened his eyes, and watched Kaneki with pity in his gaze.

"It will not always be so terrible," Yoshimura said gently. "I promise, Kaneki. You will live a normal life."

"Thank you, sir."

His words sounded so hollow. Thank you, thank you, thank you. How many times could he say it? Not nearly enough. There was no amount of gratitude that could suffice to this man.

Yoshimura walked him out, but Kaneki found himself faltering at the door. He turned to face the man, and he clutched the little package tightly in his fists.

"I am ghoul," he said firmly, "but I'm also human. You know that. You accept it. So then, do you think it's possible… do you think humans and ghouls could find peace with each other?"

Yoshimura stared at him, his wizened face carved from the shadows of the closed down coffee shop. And he gave Kaneki a wide little smile, patting him gently on the shoulder.

"We who are peace-minded dwell on the sidelines, watching those with power wage wars we cannot end. And to end such a great conflict, I could only assume great sacrifice must be made." Yoshimura shrugged. "But then again, I stand for the refugees, for those who cannot help themselves. I cannot say what it would take to end a battle, so much as the entire war."

 _He speaks so well_ , Kaneki thought, staring up at the man in absolute awe.

"I don't think sacrifice is the answer," Kaneki said softly. "If this is a war, then it's on a social scale too. So that's… that's where I come in." He straightened up, his eyes widening. "I'm not solely human, and not solely ghoul. I'm both. I get the privilege of being both. So couldn't I speak for both factions?" Kaneki stared, not at Yoshimura, not at Anteiku's interior, but into a great expanse of possibilities unfolding before him.

Last time he'd gotten it all wrong.

He'd tried to fight this war on the battle's stage. He'd focused all his energy on playing his part, not even realizing that he was just a piece in the play. He needed to look behind the curtain. There was no debut for the actor this time, for he had to work behind the scenes.

Yoshimura looked surprised.

"You could try," he said in his soft, grandfatherly voice.

And Kaneki felt his heart break.

Because he could not return to Anteiku.

He could not put such a beautiful place on the frontlines, not again. Not when he'd seen the destruction his presence had caused. Because after all, what had led the doves to Anteiku? The Owl. Why did they track down the Owl? Because he'd shown up at the Aogiri raid. Why had he been at the Aogiri raid?

He'd been rescuing Kaneki.

This was for the best.

And so, with a heavy heart, he left Anteiku. He waited a few blocks before throwing away the human meat, tearing open the package so that some desperate ghoul might fish it out. He walked slowly, the city sounds beginning to die down from a thrum to a murmur, and his feet scraped heavily on the pavement. He was exhausted. He was exhausted and lost, and that was leading him down an uncertain path.

He could try.

Wasn't it better that he try, then? If he could save Anteiku, then he would. He'd do whatever he had to do to keep Anteiku from the doves.

So that was that, then.

Kaneki paused outside a tall building that Touka had once dragged him into. That had been a different life. Would Touka even know him now? Aside from that first impression, which though not as bad as the last was still pretty awful? He didn't want to stay away from her, but did he have a choice? Could he be her friend without being at Anteiku?

He walked into the building, feeling suddenly violently uncomfortable. He immediately wanted to walk right out. He stood for a moment, swaying in the doorway, and he glanced around the deserted entrance. It was probably nearing two in the morning. There was no one really there, except a clerk at a desk. She looked up upon his entering, their eyes meeting, and she looked honestly confused. She probably was not used to seeing people on her shifts.

He walked toward her, a little unsteadily. She watched him in silence, and did not smile when he reached her desk.

"Hello," she said. "Are you lost?"

"No." Kaneki swallowed hard. He glanced around the entrance, his eyes falling on a bulletin board. Then they swiveled toward the tall entryway beside the desk, which he knew to be the RC detector. "Um, is there any way I could speak to an investigator?"

"There's no one really here this late," the woman said cautiously. "Would you like to file a report?"

"No," he said. He looked at her, and he could hear Hide's voice clawing through his brain, vicious talons carving up his lying mind.  _Don't do anything rash_.

"Then what brings you to the CCG?" the woman asked.

Kaneki's heartbeat accelerated as he understood the very real danger he was placing himself in.

But this was an option he'd never thought to explore before.

 _For Anteiku_ , he thought.

"My name is Kaneki Ken," he said hoarsely, leaning heavily against the desk. "A few days ago, I was… I was involved in an accident. Metal beams fell. A girl was killed, and her organs were transplanted without consent into the boy that was there. I'm sure you heard of it." He paused for her wary nod, but didn't wait for any other reply. "That girl was a ghoul. That boy was me. I used to be human, but now I'm a ghoul, and I… I need help. Please. Can you help me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fateor, fateri, fassus sum  
> to admit, acknowledge, confess; to profess, declare


	3. catasta

Once upon a time, there had been a makeshift classroom in the basement of Kaneki's school. The walls had been made of cement blocks, off white paint filling up gaping pores in the simple design. The children had sat in uncomfortable wooden desks, carved up by generations past with pens and pencils, names and phrases scrawled across backrests in jerky kanji. There had been a single black board, a desk at the front for the teacher, and no light but a dim, fading light bulb that hung limply from the ceiling.

Kaneki had often lamented to Hide, who had the privilege of not having that particular class, that the classroom had the atmosphere of a prison.

Stale air, stale light, no character to liven up the cold, bare walls. Every class had felt like a day serving up a sentence. It had been a terrible class, and not even Kaneki had been able to keep up with the low droning of his elderly, stammering teacher.

He'd begun to mark off the days on the backrest of the desk in front of him. The days until he'd be free of the terrible, stifling basement, of the flickering yellow light bulb and the naked white cement walls.

This prison felt the same.

As far as he could tell, from the tallies he'd made on the wall behind his bed with the point of a hairpin, he'd been in this cell for about a week. Possibly longer, considering he'd only added one day between procuring the pin and waking up. It was quiet, a perpetual drone of buzzing silence that vibrated in the front of his brain, a pile of bees agitating the wounds of the past. The space behind his eyes, which should have been hollow from the damage done by that damn dove.

There were doves here. Lots of them. They were the ones who passed a weird, slurpy concoction through a slot in his door. They did not come in, but he knew it was them who took him away in his sleep, because when he woke up he had a strange aching feeling around the inside of his elbow. When he rubbed the sensitive skin, thumbing the thin flesh above vibrant blue veins, he felt nothing. But he knew better. They must have taken a gallon of blood from him for  _any_  pain to linger.

He busied himself in the only way he could. He did pushups, sit-ups, and stretched himself a whole lot, like how Touka had taught him. By the seventh day of captivity he was trying to flip off walls. He landed in hilarious little heaps, so he moved his bed so he might land on it instead. That softened the blows a little.

He knew he was being watched, but he was bored, and this was a really good chance to build up the strength he'd lost.

 _Hide must be worried_ , he thought more than once.

Kaneki did a full flip off the wall eight days into his captivity. He stumbled a little, his feet dragging against the cool floor. And then a great laugh bubbled in his chest. He pumped his fist into the air excitedly, bouncing on his heels and grinning broadly to himself. If he could flip, he could fight head to head against both ghouls  _and_ doves.

By the tenth day, he could do a one armed handstand for a minute and a half.

His door slid open in the middle of such an exercise, and his focus broke. He yelped as he crashed to the floor, curling up above his throbbing right arm. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, blinking up at the dove with large eyes.

"Hi," he said. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

He wasn't particularly scared. He knew that whatever was happening right now, they couldn't keep him locked up forever. He told himself that, because it kept him sane. They were just doing tests to confirm what Kaneki had told that girl at the desk. They were just making sure he was really human.

He wondered how that had gone.

It was a woman. She jerked her chin at him. "Hands," she said. He noted she had a pair of shackles in her fist. Kaneki offered out his wrists, and she locked the handcuffs around them, jerking him toward the door.

They exited his cell into a curving hall that overlooked a circular gap. The floors were rings around an empty space. And there were a lot of floors.

Kaneki gaped, blinking rapidly to be sure he was seeing right.

"Um," he gasped as the woman shoved him forward. "Where are we?"

"Don't speak."

He clamped his mouth shut.

It was best to be a good prisoner. He wanted information, and in order to get that he had to play obedient. He glanced down at his shackles, and he wondered how easy it would be to escape. But he reminded himself that he was trying to get on the CCG's good side.

This had been a really bad idea.

 _Better the CCG than Aogiri_ , he told himself fiercely.

It was true. He was much more comfortable and much more sane than he'd been when captured by Aogiri. Far less scared too. He felt somewhat safe here, despite the fact that he knew he was being probed in his sleep. It was invasive, but he'd been through worse.

He was led to a large, empty room, and seated before a yawning window. He stared vacantly at the two men before him. A shivery feeling consumed his stomach as he stared into the half-crazed eyes of the white haired investigator that had killed Mrs. Fueguchi.

Kaneki had no clue what his face looked like. But he must have looked terrified, because the man's face split into a wide smirk.

"Hello there." The man's voice was rather raspy, and he seemed to coo as he spoke, as though he were speaking to a child. "Ken, was it?"

Kaneki sunk lower into his seat, his defense mechanisms kicking in at full blast. This man was not someone he could ever like or trust or be civil with. He bit his tongue, and his eyes averted sharply toward the tall man standing at a distance. Suddenly the chill that the mad-eyed investigator had given him dissipated.

In a different life, with the dust of crumbling buildings clinging to his mouth, he'd pleaded with this man to let rivalries die. That simple, desperate smile tugged at the muscles of his mouth, a ghost on his lips. He couldn't see a way to stop it.  _If you would_ , that silly boy had said, polite and soft as ever,  _may I ask… your name?_

 _Koutarou Amon_ , he thought.

How different he seemed now, distanced from the field of battle, turning his face to the injustice that was being shoved before him.

The man's words hung inside Kaneki's head, vague and whispery.  _Ghoul bastard_. Like the dust that had clogged Kaneki's throat. It stung in his eyes.  _The only place you're going is Cochlea_.

He jolted upright. A revelation swung its mighty fist, crashing into the side of his head and whipping his face to meet the mad man's.

"Am I in Cochlea?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

Amon's eyes flashed. The mad man's thin lips parted into a pursed little O, his brow rising minutely.

"Now," the man said, leaning forward so his breath nearly misted upon the glass. "Where'd you hear a thing like that?"

Fear latched on to him once more. He stammered as he spoke. "I-I heard it here, I think," he said, leaning back in his seat. "I don't know where. Maybe when I was taken out of my room?"

"This is the first time you've been released," Amon stated sharply. It was not in an unkind voice. He was merely stating it like a correction, like a teacher scolding a student for shouting the incorrect answer.

"No," Kaneki said very quietly. "No, I've definitely been taken out of my room before. They do it when I'm asleep." He shifted his hands, listening to the chains jostle. He was wearing what could only be described as prison garb. Rough and scratchy cloth, limp and shapeless and gray.

Amon frowned, and he glanced at the mad man. He took a few careful steps forward, and Kaneki knew immediately that he'd been really trying to keep his distance. There was a rift here. Kaneki could sense it.  _They were arguing_ , he realized.  _Before they came in here, they were disagreeing on something_.

"You were asleep?" Amon squinted at him.

"Are you sure you weren't simply having an elaborate dream?" the mad man suggested cheerfully.

Kaneki flushed. He stared at them, his entire body hunched and locked in defense. "Um…" He bit his lip. "Do you think I'm stupid, or something?" The man's expression remained unchanged, but Amon's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever been held captive before? You become hyper aware of everything around you. Especially when you don't have contact with anyone. I know what blood being drawn feels like. That's fine, you can take as much blood as you want. But whatever else was done to me, I really would like to know. Please."

"This was done while you were sleeping," Amon clarified, "without your consent?"

"Yes," Kaneki said. He lowered his head, his heart beating hard in his chest. A shock of defiance ran through him, and he muttered, "I guess because I'm a ghoul now, I don't have any real rights."

He bit back a satisfied smirk when Amon jerked upright. His eyes moved sharply to the mad man's face, and he stared for a long time while the man leaned forward.

"Let's start simple," he said. He pulled out a clipboard and rested it on a little shelf beneath the window. "Answer to me truthfully. Yes or no only. Your name is Kaneki Ken?"

"Yes."

"You went on a date with a young woman, Kamishiro Rize, who was a ghoul?"

"Yes."

"Kamishiro Rize's organs were transplanted into you by one Kanou Akihiro?"

"Yes…"

"And since then you have been displaying ghoul-like behavior?"

Kaneki sighed. " _Yes_ ," he hissed.

"Good, good." The man flipped the page. "Now let's get down to the nitty gritty, shall we? Do you crave human flesh?"

Kaneki swallowed thickly. He looked away. "Listen… I—"

"Yes or no," the man said coolly.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes," he murmured. He felt ashamed. He saw Amon shift uneasily out of the corner of his eye.

"Have you considered attacking and subsequently consuming a human?"

"I... No," he said quietly. He took a deep breath. "No."

He noticed the pause there, and he looked up. The man was eying him distrustfully. Amon's eyes had risen as well. He looked strangely hopeful.  _He's on my side_ , Kaneki thought excitedly.

Now he just had to sway the mad man.

"You don't want to eat humans?" the mad man asked in a slow, tender voice. He leaned forward, and gestured with his thumb and forefinger. "Not even a tinsy bit?"

"No," Kaneki said firmly. "I can't eat my own kind."

"But you are a ghoul?"

"Well, I mean…"

"Yes or no."

"Yes," Kaneki snapped. "Yes, I am a ghoul."

"But you claim humans are your own kind?"

"Yes."

"Are you human?" Amon cut in, leaning over the man's head and staring through the glass heatedly. "Tell me, do you believe you are still human?"

"Yes." Kaneki did not miss a beat. He matched the man's stare. A shot of adrenaline ran through him, and he remembered all the past meetings, and all the past tears, because he knew this man could understand. He had the empathy, the compassion. This man could change everything, if he'd just let himself believe.

"But you said you're a ghoul," the mad man said. "You cannot be both."

"How do you know?" Kaneki's eyes raised and widened. "Have you ever met anyone like me before? I'm half a ghoul, half a human. I won't choose which side is more dominant. It'd be impossible."

The man carefully set aside the clipboard. He watched Kaneki with his one droopy eye sparkling.

"Why did you come to the CCG, Ken?"

Kaneki's eyes narrowed at him. "I guess I was under the illusion that you could help me," he said vacantly.

"We don't help ghouls."

"Then help a few humans," Kaneki pleaded. "Myself included. I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"And how should we help you with that?" The man cocked his head to the side. "Feed you little scraps of human meat we find lying around?"

"Stop pretending like I'm stupid," Kaneki sighed. "This is a prison for ghouls, if I've got it right. You feed the ghouls here, don't you? Just give me whatever you give them."

The man's lips stretched thinly in a vague grin. "Huh." He tapped his chin with one long finger. "So in exchange for nutrition… what will you do for us?"

There it was.

The Faustian bargain finally revealed itself.

Kaneki was prepared for it.

"I'll fight for you," he said, his eyes flashing between the two men. "I'm part ghoul, so I'm pretty durable, and I have a kagune. Which I'm sure you figured out when you probed me in my sleep."

"Probed is such an ugly word!" The man pouted a little. "I'd think of it like an examination."

Amon's entire face grew shadowy as he turned his face away. Perhaps he thought that averting his eyes would change the scene, change the reality, that there was a human before him who was also a ghoul, who they'd failed to protect, who they'd failed to help when he was still all good and pure and completely human.

"Thank you," Kaneki said coldly. "I like the idea of being examined in my sleep so much better."

"Kaneki," Amon said gently. That was shocking. How soothing and soft the man's voice had become. "I know how this must seem to you, but we really do want to help you. If you're serious—"

"I'm dead serious." Kaneki let his shackled hands rest on his shelf, and he lifted his chin high. "Get me out of here, stop me from eating humans, and I'll be a dove or whatever."

"Dove?" The mad man asked curiously. Kaneki blanched, a rock dropping into his stomach. "What on earth do you mean by that?"

"That's street slang," he explained hastily. "I heard it from some guy at my university. People call the CCG doves because they wear white, or something. I don't really know for sure, there might be a different reason, but I mean, I just kind of assumed."

"That's fascinating."

Kaneki shrugged, lowering his head and praying for his life.

"Well then, Kaneki Ken," the man said, pushing his chair back and standing up. "I'll take you up on that offer. Welcome to the CCG."

Kaneki's mouth fell open. "Just like that?" he asked weakly.

"You got it." He patted Amon's arm. The tall man was, for the first time, inscrutable. He stared at Kaneki for a long time. And then they both disappeared. Kaneki sat confusedly, glancing down at his cuffed wrists, and he twisted around in his seat to see if anyone was in the room with him. He toyed with the links of the chain, considering how much force it'd take to snap them.

The door slid open, and Kaneki stared vacantly as Amon stepped into the room, moving slowly toward him. When Kaneki spotted the keys in his hand, he stood up. Amon took Kaneki by the arm, his fist massive in comparison to Kaneki's scrawny forearm, and the cuffs unlocked with a click. A weight was lifted from Kaneki as the shackles were stripped away. He let himself relax for a bare moment.

"Thank you," he whispered. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them. Amon was watching him with drooping eyes.

"Don't thank me just yet," he said quietly. And then he turned sharply and left the room. Kaneki followed, not sure what else to really do.

His bare feet were chilled against the tile floor as he met the mad man face to face. He had his brief case. His lop-sided smirk. His crazed, protruding, drooping eye. And he offered out his hand.

"Mado Kureo," he said brightly. "You will be working under me."

Kaneki wanted to ask why. He was close to objecting, inquiring about the way the CCG worked, because this didn't really seem right to him. But he let it go.

They left Cochlea in a car, Kaneki sitting awkwardly in the back seat with his clothes in his lap. His bare feet rubbed against the wiry carpet of the car, and he glanced between the two investigators uneasily. Okay, so he'd infiltrated the CCG somewhat successfully. Now what? He'd thought over plans and strategies during his week and a half in captivity.

Firstly, he would need to figure the date. Map out a timeline for when things would happen. If he didn't know exactly what was going to happen next, what was the point of being from the future? Secondly, he had to sway people toward sympathizing with ghouls. How the hell was he going to do that?

"So this Kamishiro Rize," Mado called, twisting in his seat to peer at Kaneki. Amon was driving. "You think she's really dead?"

Kaneki blinked rapidly. "That's what the doctor said," Kaneki said cautiously. He was scared of what he might say around this man. His eyes seemed to stare right through Kaneki, and he could simply figure every lie out before it was even spoken.

"How did you know?" Mado's eyes were twinkling. "That you were a ghoul, I mean. You were hardly even out of the hospital before you went to the CCG. What else did that doctor tell you?"

Kaneki's jaw tightened. "I figured it out," he said, "when I started seeing people less like people and more like meat."

"Oho?" Mado turned about, facing forward. "And how does that feel?"

"Terrible." Kaneki met Amon's eye in the rearview mirror. He swallowed very thickly, and he sighed. "It's not like anything a human could ever experience. It hurts. There's like an empty pit in my stomach that needs to be filled, and the longer it's left to hollow me out, the less of me there is to resist it."

"Well," Amon said sharply. "It's a good thing you came to us, then."

Kaneki nodded slowly. "Yeah…" He sunk into his seat. "Excuse me, um… Mr. Mado?"

"Hmm?"

"You know that there were things done to me in my sleep." Kaneki stared at the man's back, his stringy white hair falling in long waves by his hunched shoulders. "I really need to know what happened."

"Do you  _really_ , though?"

"Mado," Amon hissed, his chin jerking rather sharply as he shot the man a heated glance.

Mado hummed quietly to himself. His shoulders rose and fell stiffly. "I have no real authority with Cochlea," he said loftily. "But I'll receive your file once all the proper paperwork is documented. My guess is that you were being monitored. Your RC levels, your heart rate, the organs that were transplanted, your kakuhou. That fun stuff."

Kaneki followed his words easily, but he caught himself before he nodded. He needed to remember that he was supposed to be a human boy, human and unassuming, and he already acted like he knew far too much. He really shouldn't know anything about ghouls.

"Um," he said with a nervous laugh. "What's… RC? And a— a  _shining wrap_?" He smiled sheepishly. "That sounds so silly!"

"A kakuhou is the sack you've got hidden somewhere inside you," Mado explained with a low, slow voice, like the narration of a history special. "It releases your kagune. Which you already knew about."

"Yeah…"

"There are four types of kagune," Mado continued, "ukaku, koukaku, rinkaku, and bikaku. Where is your located?"

"Uh… like…" Kaneki's hand moved toward the small of his back. "Lower back? I guess."

"Toward the tailbone?"

"No, higher."

"A rinkaku," Amon said quietly.

"I'd love to see that," Mado chuckled. He said it in a strange, heightened tone, a giddiness hanging there that reminded Kaneki of displaced hunger. "So what happened to make it come out? I need to know, was it hunger? Excitement? Fear?"

"Fear," Kaneki said dully.

"Of what?"

Kaneki remembered Nishiki.  _Fuck_ , he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. _I have to go deal with him_. Could they still be friends? Kaneki hoped so, but like hell Nishiki would ever trust a dove.

"My friend was in danger," he said quietly. "I was scared for him."

"Now wait a minute." Mado waggled a finger, never looking back. "Does this friend know you're a ghoul?"

"He's human too, Mado, don't forget," Amon said.

"Yes, yes, but the ghoul part is more important, I think." Mado shrugged. "So does he know?"

Kaneki didn't respond. He was terrified of what would happen if he said the wrong thing. If Mado didn't like the answer. He was trying to  _save_  Hide, damn it!

But, of course, Hide was human. He inherently had better odds with the CCG than Kaneki did.

"He does," Kaneki said quietly. "He told me not to tell anyone. He probably thinks I skipped town because I disappeared for so long."

"He knows and he accepted you?" Mado sounded dubious.

"Listen, I'm shocked too." Kaneki sighed. "He's just a really good person."

"I'd like to meet this boy." Mado straightened up. "Where does he live?"

The shivery feeling from earlier returned with a vengeance, and Kaneki felt a little nauseous. He stayed silent, his horror likely written on his face. He was now becoming aware of how precarious his situation was. These people could easily lock him back up, or kill him, or kill everyone he loved.

Why was he doing this?

"Well?" Mado sounded impatient.

"He's scared," Amon said. "You're scaring him."

"What's there to be scared of?" Mado's odd, bulging eyes flickered to Kaneki's face, and a wide smirk appeared on his wormy lips. "No harm will come to your friend so long as he's human."

"And if not you'll just kill him?" Kaneki shrunk in his seat. "That's terrible."

"Ghouls are an infestation, Ken." Mado's smirk was resting in place. Plastered onto his sunken face, unshakable amidst the discomfort that Kaneki set forward. "Tell me, how did your little date with that ghoul girl go? What happened before those beams fell on her?"

Kaneki shot him a cold look. He couldn't really reply, because no matter what he said it would reflect poorly on him.

"Fufu, thought so!" Mado straightened and turned around. "You've been cooped up for quite awhile, Ken. Don't you want a familiar face to greet you?"

It was cruel of him to prey on Kaneki's weaknesses like that.

"He's at Kamii University," Kaneki murmured.

 _Hide isn't a ghoul,_  Kaneki thought firmly.  _I have nothing to worry about_.

He was still prickling with a sharp, anxious fear as the drive continued. He thought about Hinami, about Touka, about this man's demise, and he tried to remember when that happened, he tried to rationalize that it might not happen. He had to hope that it wouldn't be necessary. That Hinami would be safe with her mother. That Mrs. Fueguchi would survive this time.

Wasn't that why he was doing this?

"I look like a criminal," Kaneki muttered as he exited the car. His bare feet scraped the pavement, and he hugged his clothes to his chest. "What happened to my shoes?"

"They must've lost them," Mado said brightly. "After all, Cochlea isn't really used to simply  _letting prisoners go_!"

His voice was so loud and harsh, it echoed across the campus, and a few heads turned their way. Kaneki flushed.

"Why don't we go to the bathroom, Kaneki," Amon suggested. He was being very polite, speaking softly and using a simple honorific. He spoke as though he were speaking the name as forwardly as he could without being rude.  _Kaneki-san_ , though not quite with the inflection that would imply  _Mr. Kaneki_.

"Okay," Kaneki said slowly, turning away from Mado. "Um, they're this way…"

"I can wait here," Mado said, plopping down on a bench and setting his briefcase down. "We're in no rush."

Kaneki didn't stick around any longer than that. He walked away, Amon following quietly, and when they were a good distance away from Mado, Kaneki let out a great sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry," Amon said. Kaneki jumped, and he glanced up at him. "I know he can be a lot to handle, but please don't judge him too harshly. He's a good man."

 _A good man_. The words echoed in Kaneki's head.  _No, that's not right. Mr. Yoshimura is a good man. Mado is a lunatic_.

That was wrong. The wrong word, the wrong language. He was wrong. Mado was a human with the disposition of a ghoul. He hungered for the kill, thrived on the satisfaction, glorified his trophies. What game was he playing? What did he gain from this senseless cruelty?

"You say not to judge him," Kaneki murmured. "But did he not judge me immediately? Just for being a ghoul?"

"You're not a ghoul," Amon told him in that soft voice that suggested pity and fondness. It was so strange to hear from this man. This foe of a friend, this man who had tried and tried to understand a bastard ghoul who hadn't a clue what he was doing.

"Would that make it easier for you to like me?" Kaneki asked him sharply. Amon eyebrows arched up beneath his neatly combed bangs.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me tell Mado that I was a ghoul." Kaneki quickened his steps, his chest seizing up at the stares he was getting.  _Relax_ , he told himself.  _This is fine. People stare all the time_. Pressure, pressure, like a thumb against an eggshell. The eggshell was his skull, and the thumb was humanity. "I won't pretend to be something I'm not for the CCG. If I'm going to fight for you as a ghoul, then you are going to acknowledge that I am a ghoul."

"Do you  _want_  to be a ghoul?" Amon sounded so shocked. Kaneki supposed that was within reason. Last time, Kaneki had been so disgusted with himself. So ashamed and scared of what being a ghoul meant. But now he knew better. Now he knew that being a ghoul… it wasn't the end of the world. There were good ghouls, and there were bad ghouls, and sometimes there were muddied ghouls with no real place anywhere. Humans were just the same.

It was all the same.

"Um…" Kaneki shuffled his feet, dragging them as he walked. "Honestly, I don't know how to answer that question. I would rather be human, but I'm not going to ignore who I am now because of that."

"You weren't given a choice," Amon told him. As if he didn't already know. "You shouldn't have to feel like you need to accept it."

"No offense," Kaneki laughed weakly, "but I'm pretty sure the fast track to losing your mind is to hate yourself."  _I'd know_ , he added as an afterthought.

"Kaneki," Amon said as they entered the men's bathroom. "You understand what you're signing up for, don't you?"

Kaneki's bare toes stuck to the grimy tile floor as he marched up to a stall.

"I guess I really don't," he said, turning to face the man and smiling weakly. Amon had that look in his eyes again. Pure pity. "But I don't have any other choice, do I?"

It was either this, or let Anteiku crumble.

Even though he ended up dressed in the clothes he'd thrown on the night he'd gone to Anteiku, he was still barefoot. His jeans hung loosely at his hips, and he tugged at them dazedly. He'd already lost so much weight in such a short period of time. His ribs were protruding now.

He walked solemnly, Amon at his back, tailing him like a prison guard. His sweater was slipping against his thin shoulders, and he watched the hem of his jeans drag against the sidewalk. He seemed to have outgrown his old life in the matter of days.

A high-pitched cry knocked him out of his thoughts. He was caught by the shoulders, fingers digging into his skin and throttling him to and fro.

"Heee- _ey_!" Hide cried. The throttling did not cease. "Damn you, Kaneki, skipping class for so long! I don't know anybody in Asian History, put yourself in my shoes!" Kaneki's head snapped back and forth, his head rattling. Déjà vu was cruel and sharp, a lash upon his cheek. "Rabbits—!"

"Rabbits  _don'_ t die of loneliness," Kaneki cut in, grabbing Hide by the shoulders and pushing him back sharply. "And you have no trouble making friends."

"Ooh!" Hide's eyes brightened considerably. "How'd you know I was gonna say that, Kaneki?" He nudged his shoulders back and forth gently. "Are you psychic or something?"

"Yes," Kaneki said flatly, vaguely dismayed at his slip up. "I can read minds."

"What am I thinking about right now?"

"Um." Kaneki rolled his eyes back into his skull. "Batman."

"Bat _woman_ ," Hide corrected, his eyes narrowing. "Shame on you. I only read quality comic books."

"You like Batman," Kaneki sighed, shoving him away.

"Shh!" Hide swatted him over the head. "Don't let anyone hear you! It's so conformist, it's  _embarrassing_!" Hide jerked a finger at Kaneki's face. "Are you trying to ruin my street cred?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Nagachika!" Two students came wandering over. Kaneki stared at them, recalling that this had happened all before. "Are these guys your friends?"

"This one is, yeah!" Hide caught Kaneki in a headlock and laughed heartily. He glanced back at Amon, and he shrugged. "I don't know this guy, though. Howdy. You a friend of Kaneki's?"

"We're acquaintances," Amon said. He lowered his head. "I'm Koutarou Amon."

"Ah-mun," Hide repeated, stressing out syllables purposefully to sound silly. "Now that's a wicked name. Amon Ra, Amon of Judah, or the demon, Aamon?"

"What?" Kaneki said flatly.

Amon looked surprised. He merely stared, his jaw tight.

"Ha ha!" Hide laughed brightly. "Why don't I just call you Koutarou?"

"That's fair." Amon looked bemused. "That's certainly some impressive knowledge you have."

"Nah, bro," Hide said sheepishly, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "I just go on Wikipedia binges sometimes."

"Anyways," one of the students said. "We'll catch you later, Nagachika. Remember to get that DVD from Nishio, the one from last year's festival."

"Roger that!" Hide didn't even look at them as he waved them away. "So, Kaneki, you feeling any better?"

"Oh." Kaneki did not look at Amon. He scratched his chin, and he laughed. "Yeah, I'm way better now."

"Good!" Hide threw his arms behind his head and marched forward. "Hey, Koutarou, you can come with if you want. I just need to grab something from a classmate."

"That's fine." Amon sounded apprehensive. "After that, my partner and I need to speak with you."

"Your partner, you say?" Hide hummed. They were all walking at a leisurely pace, starting across campus. The sun-baked bricks cooked the soles of Kaneki's feet. "Are you a cop?"

"I'm a ghoul investigator."

Hide continued walking, his arms behind his head, his strides long and lazy. "Huh," he said, his voice peppered with his usual drawl. Kaneki couldn't believe it. Hide was a master at avoiding suspicion. "Ghouls? Really? Isn't that like, dangerous?"

"Someone has to do it," Amon said with a shrug.

"Heh." Hide shot him a half smile. "Okay, I can dig it. Give me some details, ghoul buster. What are ghouls like? Are they as powerful as people say? Can they really not eat human food?"

"Hide," Kaneki said quietly, glancing at Amon worriedly. The man had no real reaction. He merely continued walking.

"Well," he said, "ghouls look to be about the same as humans. They very powerful though."

"And they have to eat humans?" Hide lowered his arms at his sides. "That's not just an urban legend? Not just a tall tale told to kids at night to spook them?"

"Hide," Kaneki sighed, "he knows that you know."

Hide didn't stop walking. His playful expression turned stony, and he just kept moving, step after step after step, a heavy silence blanketing them.

Finally he spoke.

"Koutarou," he said, "can I ask a question?"

"Certainly…" Though Amon didn't look too positive he wanted to hear one.

Hide spun on his heels, snapping them together and standing at attention, like a soldier in the presence of a commanding officer or something. He stared at Amon with large eyes.

"Why did you keep him locked up for almost two weeks?" Hide's voice was clipped and emotionless. His eyes were hollow. He stared into Amon's face, and he stared through it. "That was, frankly, a violation of Kaneki's rights."

"Technically the CCG can withhold him simply for being a ghoul," Amon informed Hide in a similarly clipped tone.

"That's illogical and puritanical," Hide snapped. "You can't just take people and lock them up. Is there even a law in Japan stating you can imprison ghouls? Do ghouls have a right to a fair trial? Has there ever even been a ghoul on trial for being a ghoul before? No, of course not, silly me." He laughed, and it was a harsh, strained sound. "You can't put someone on trial for existing."

"Hide," Kaneki gasped, grabbing Hide's arm and shooting him a warning look. "I'm  _fine_. Nothing happened, okay?"

"Okay, buddy."

And he dropped it. Just like that.

"This'll be quick, Koutarou," Hide explained about five minutes later as they moved through a hall. "Nishiki's not really much of a gabber, so we'll have that chat soon, I guess."

Hide reached a door marked AO, and Kaneki watched his hand go to the handle. Kaneki snatched it, twisting it away from the door and elbowing Hide in the ribs.

"Ow," Hide squeaked, "ow, ow, ow!"

"Don't just barge into people's rooms, Hide," Kaneki hissed. "Knock first."

"Is that really necessary?"

" _Yes_." Kaneki tapped his knuckles against Nishiki's door twice.

Then he realized. He glanced at Amon.

 _Fuck_.

His eyes widened in horror.

He just brought a ghoul investigator to Nishiki.

He was such a fucking idiot.

There was shuffling from the other side of the door, soft noises, Kimi's quiet, panicked words muffled by the distance. Kaneki released Hide's arm, taking a few careful steps back.

"Hey," he whispered to Amon. "We should go, don't you think? I need to find shoes."

"Oh yeah," Hide said thoughtfully, glancing at Kaneki's feet. "What happened to them?"

"No clue." Kaneki tapped Amon on the arm. The man began to turn slowly, following Kaneki's lead as the door slid open.

Kimi exited the room hastily, her shirt a little ruffled, but otherwise she was composed. She met their gazes, and she tipped her head, hurrying down the hall until they could no longer hear the soft padding of her feet against tile. Hide followed her with his eyes.

"Huh," he said vacantly. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Nishio."

"Did you want something, Nagachika?" Nishiki's voice was thick and dull from inside the room. Kaneki stood very still. If he could just prevent Amon from actually seeing Nishiki, maybe…

"Just stopping by for that festival DVD thing," Hide laughed, slamming the door wide open. Kaneki and Amon were suddenly in plain view of the room, and Nishiki rocked back in a rolling chair, his shirt tugged down past his collarbone.

Amon hunched a bit. He looked uncomfortable. Out of place, probably. He was, after all, quite grown up in comparison to all the students he'd just met.

The scent of coffee wafted toward Kaneki, and he was reminded with a punch in the gut of Anteiku. If he stood there long enough, letting the strong, acrid aroma fill his nose, he could almost pretend like he was there again. Like there was a chance he could return.

Kaneki watched Nishiki's eyes. They ran over Kaneki's face without any sign of emotion, but there was a momentary flash when his gaze reached Amon. A spark of fear. Apprehension. Anger.

Caution.

"Who're these guys?" He cocked his head to the side, his body language loose and relaxed. His words were still thick, and Kaneki caught a hint of tension, but he figured if Amon heard it then he'd just chalk it up to killed arousal.

"Oh, this is my buddy Kaneki!" Hide clapped Kaneki on the shoulder and grinned broadly. "I think I told you about him, or something? Been friends since we were kids?"

"Yeah, I remember." Nishiki adjusted his glasses and stood up. "And who's the big guy?"

"Koutarou Amon," Amon introduced himself curtly, bowing very respectfully. He stayed at the threshold as Hide dragged Kaneki into the room.

"You don't look like a student." Nishiki turned away, striding at a leisurely pace past his couch and kicking open a drawer. "Are you a guest speaker or something?"

 _I forgot how good he was at pretending_ , Kaneki thought, vaguely awed as he watched Nishiki thumb through a stack CD cases.

"No, actually, I just was dropping Kaneki off." Amon sounded sheepish. Perhaps he realized how strange his presence was. "I simply got roped into Nagachika's errands."

"Aw, don't be like that, Koutarou," Hide laughed. "I said it'd be quick, didn't I?"

"Well." Nishiki was still crouching. "You guys… can just come in. If you want a beer or something, help yourself."

Kaneki was already in the room, and he felt a gnawing fear as Amon entered behind him.

"How old are you?" Amon asked cautiously.

"Legal." Nishiki stood, stretching his legs and then stretching his arms. "Ah. Nagachika and them are still underage. What, you gonna rat them out if they have a beer?"

"I'm simply going to advise against it," Amon said carefully.

Nishiki threw his hands up, his eyes closing behind his glasses. "Just trying to be a gracious host." He rolled his eyes and went back to rummaging. "Since you ruined my date."

"Aw, you know me, Nishio," Hide said with a shrug. "Master of bad timing."

A soft buzzing sound filled the room, and all eyes turned to Amon. He excused himself quickly, bowing out of the room and closing the door behind him. They watched, and Nishiki whistled.

"That guy is straight laced as fuck," he noted. His eyes moved toward Kaneki. They flicked toward his bare feet. "Did you get mugged, or something?"

"No." Kaneki shuffled awkwardly. "I… why would a mugger take shoes?"

"Why wouldn't a mugger take shoes?" Nishiki scoffed. He rolled his eyes again. "What size are you?"

"Huh?" Kaneki leaned back in alarm. He wasn't really sure why there wasn't any real hostility in Nishiki's tone or actions, especially considering Kaneki had brought a dove into his territory, but he was sort of grateful. Kaneki and Nishiki had really gotten off on the wrong foot the first time.

Nishiki tossed him a pair of sneakers, worn and a little muddy. They collided with the tile, one rolling and tipping onto its side, shoelaces spilling in a trail of white and brown.

"You don't have to—!" Kaneki gasped.

"I've been meaning to throw them away," Nishiki said flatly. "Take them or leave them."

"Thank you…" Kaneki slid his feet into the well-worn sneakers. His soles were grateful for the relief.

"Wow, Nishio," Hide gasped. They could all hear Amon's voice murmuring softly in the hall. "I didn't know you could be so nice!"

"What, you think I'm mean, Nagachika?"

"Oh, no, no!" Hide laughed. "Just distant, that's all. You've got this whole cool, calculated, computer hacker type thing going on!"

"That's the desired effect." He plucked a disc from the pile and tossed it at Hide. He caught it, holding it up triumphantly and grinning. "Well, if that's all…?"

"Yep, that's it!" Hide beamed. "Thanks, Nishio!"

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Nagachika." It was almost playful, but there was a slight bite to his words. He wanted them gone.

"Oh, no worries, it's a sliding door, silly!" Hide winked, catching Kaneki by the elbow and dragging him toward the door.

"Bye, Nishio," Kaneki said distantly, unaware of his slip up even with the bemused stare that followed him.

He realized too late he'd said Nishio- _senpai_.

The door slid open just as Hide and Kaneki were attempting to leave. Amon stood there, blinking down at them. Behind him, Mado stood, peering into the room. Kaneki shouldered past them both, quick to move into the hall and away from Nishiki. Hide and Amon followed, but Mado lingered.

Kaneki turned back. He stared at the mad man for a moment as he gazed forward, his feet edging the line of the threshold. His briefcase hung limply at his thigh.

The door slammed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catasta, catastae.  
> platform on which slaves were displayed for sale.


	4. stygia

For a breathless moment, Nishiki had faced Mado, staring into the mad man's eyes, understanding what danger was hanging there.

Mado turned sharply and strode after them.

"So," he called, a low bark that made Kaneki jump, "you're the secret keeper, then?"

"And you're the partner, I'm guessing?" Hide tilted his head. "Nagachika Hideyoshi."

"Mado Kureo. Let's walk, hm? It's a beautiful day!" He pushed ahead of them, and Kaneki watched his slightly hunched back move farther and farther away. Kaneki threw a hopeless glance back at Nishiki's door, but it had closed sharply the moment Kaneki's neck bent back over his shoulder. Hide had to snatch him by the shoulder to get him to keep walking.

"I'm not sure what you guys want from me," Hide said vacantly as they passed back into the blanket of sunshine. The warmth was welcome after the chilly encounter with Nishio Nishiki. "I'm not gonna tell anyone about Kaneki."

"Why is that?" Mado's voice rumbled softly, and Hide glanced at him confusedly. "Amon tells me you're a smart boy. Why would you shelter a ghoul?"

"Excuse me?" Hide stopped walking, his fists shoved in the pockets of his jacket. He was smiling docilely. Blinking at Mado innocently. "What do you mean by shelter? I've never sheltered Kaneki from anything."

"Nagachika," Amon said cautiously, shooting a quick glance at Kaneki. He clearly felt somewhat guilty about this entire situation, but Kaneki didn't show any sort of discomfort. He needed these people if he wanted to survive in the CCG. "You should have brought Kaneki's condition to the CCG's attention immediately."

"Sorry, I think I missed something," Hide laughed, "like is there some kind of ghoul handbook or something? Is there a law that humans have to turn in ghouls to the CCG?"

"Actually, it's customary for people to give the CCG tips on suspected ghouls." Amon was obviously trying to sound helpful, but Hide merely stretched his lips into a half pursed, half incredulous smile. He averted his eyes sharply, his head jerking in a half tick, like the sharp movement of the big hand on a clock.  _Well okay, then_ , his body language barked.

"Listen," Hide gasped, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm a first year university student. I eat out of gross instant ramen cups. I have like five hundred yen to my name. My first concern in life isn't _really_  turning my best friend in to a mysterious ghoul hunting organization, okay? I just want to pass my Asian History midterm, and maybe not be worried sick about my aforementioned best friend's whereabouts." Hide paused, and he held up a finger sharply, twisting to face Kaneki. "I have your notes, by the way."

"Oh." Kaneki had forgotten about school, honestly. "Thanks."

"No problem." Hide offered a shrug and laugh. Amon's brows were raised quite high, and Mado was smiling. Kaneki thought that must be a customary expression for him. He always looked like he knew something no one else did. "Anyhow, sorry I didn't like, call to check in, or something. My bad. If I had known you had Kaneki then I would have gone to you guys immediately."

"I wonder why you didn't go looking for him." Mado tapped his chin curiously. Hide stared at him, his mouth opening and closing but not a peep coming out. Kaneki watched him, but he couldn't say anything. Hide had left Kaneki alone. As always. The moment Kaneki had stopped answering his calls, Hide had probably assumed Kaneki had skipped down.

"Can I go home now?" Kaneki blurted. He could feel the tensions rising, and he didn't like that Hide was in the middle of it. "I feel like I haven't showered in over a week."

"Oh, is that what that smell is?" Hide quipped without missing a beat.

Kaneki ignored that remark with as much dignity as he possibly could. He shot Amon a pleading glance, which the man matched with a mild stare. There was nothing that could be done. Mado was rubbing his hands together, gloves squelching from the friction.

"Perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot, hmm?" Mado cocked his head, his smile widening with some particular malice. He spun on his heel, gesturing for them to follow as he started down a crowded walkway. A few students parted to let him pass. "Let me make it up to you!"

Kaneki glanced at Hide, but his friend had already started forward. So instead Kaneki's eyes went to Amon. And Amon merely sighed.

"It's better not to question it," Amon told him. "He's thinking far faster than all of us put together."

That was unnerving to think about. This man seemed to be too clever by far, and his madness… who was Kaneki to judge, anyway? The first time Kaneki Ken had met Mado Kureo, the eccentric nature of the man had been more than simply terrifying. He'd grabbed Kaneki and yanked him through an RC detector after all, leaving him shaky and nauseous from terror.

Mado Kureo was wild and wired and wicked, but his danger did not derive from madness. It was his cunning that chilled Kaneki to the bone. He seemed to be preying on Kaneki's innate fear of losing his loved ones, and latching onto that intimidation tactic. He'd already learned so much about Kaneki in such a brief amount of time, and Kaneki was completely clueless to this man and his motives. How could anyone be so terrible?

Amon was watching him, dark eyes flickering curiously across Kaneki's face. This man wanted to learn too. He wanted to know what it was that made Kaneki tick, what it was that was keeping him from devolving into a rabid, salivating beast. He looked down upon Kaneki's round, youthful face, his big, swollen eyes, and he saw a child. Kaneki knew it. Koutarou Amon was clinging to the thought that Kaneki was just a human child thrust into the tempest of ghouldom, innocent and guiltless to the actions taken place to give him this unbreakable body.

Amon saw him as a baby dangling by the ankle in the grasp of a gleaming eyed goddess, her long fingers drawing blood from his fleshy calf as she dipped him into the river Styx, watching serenely as he squalled and thrashed against the chilly black current.

And what could Mado see him as? Certainly not a helpless child resigned to an unfortunate fate.

He must have seen something human, though. Or else Kaneki would not be free.

Kaneki began to follow Mado with the sort of hopeless obedience of a dog on a chain. Was that not exactly what he was destined to be at this point? What if he couldn't change a thing and he was stuck slaughtering innocent ghouls for the rest of his life? What a sad existence that would be, hating himself more and more with every little motion, never truly in charge of his own actions.

Was this really the right choice?

He supposed it was too late to turn back now.

Amon and Kaneki caught up with Mado just as he'd sidled up alongside a mobile ice cream cart. He caught the end of his order.

"— With sprinkles for Hideyoshi." He spoke with clipped, almost mocking familiarity. His thin, wormy lips enunciated every syllable of Hide's name—  _Hi_ -de- _yo_ -shi- _kun_. Hide's expression remained amicable in spite of the use of his given name. Mado turned his head toward them as they paused a solid meter and a half away, both Kaneki and Amon a little wary of Mado's mood. "Chocolate in a cup for Amon, plain, no sprinkles or whipped cream."

"I'll pass," Amon said cautiously.

"Nonsense." Mado dug his hand into his pocket, and hummed to himself loftily. "Ken?"

"Uh… no thank you," he said. "I'll pass as well."

"And a vanilla cone for Ken," Mado said brightly. He tossed a crumpled bill onto the cart, lifting a tiny square packet from his pocket. He tossed it to Amon, who caught it in a massive fist, his eyes a little wide. Mado then glanced at Kaneki with an unreasonably gleeful smirk. "Do you need a lactate as well?"

Mutely, Kaneki shook his head, unable to properly prepare a verbal assault worthy of this man's phony charity.

Hide took his ice cream excitedly, his eyes lighting up like a tiny child's. Kaneki could practically see the stars lighting up his eyes as he dug into his cookies-n-cream, mashed oreo, rainbow sprinkled concoction smeared with strawberry syrup. His lips were bright red before Kaneki could blink. Bright red and sticky. Kaneki averted his eyes, a pang of lightheadedness emptying out his head. Hunger pains began their notorious dance, but he ignored them as he always did. He didn't need to eat. And if he had to… he'd find some low-life ghouls who deserved such a fate later.

Amon took his cup gratefully, and he offered a handful of yen to Mado, who shook his head promptly. "I'm trying to show some good will, Amon," he tutted, waggling a long, thin finger. "Just eat it."

"Thank you, sir," Amon said, staring at the man with some degree of awe, but mostly unparalleled gratitude. Kaneki bit his tongue as a cone was offered out to him. This wasn't good.

"I…" He glanced at Amon, who had begun eating his ice cream, and he smiled sheepishly at Mado. He cupped his chin, speaking in a soft, distant tone. "It's so nice of you to offer, but I really shouldn't…"

"I insist."

Kaneki's smile froze on his lips. Mado's merely stretched further. He pushed the cone toward Kaneki until he was practically forcing it into Kaneki's fingers. He held the cone gingerly, as though too much pressure would crush it in his palm. He stared at it, watching the ridges of the scoops begin to fill with melting cream.

Hide stopped. He swallowed thickly, his eyes rising and blinking innocently. Kaneki could not tell what he was thinking. Amon did not seem to sense the unease either. The ice cream pooled at the edge of the cone. Kaneki's jaw tightened, his gut tightening in revulsion.

"Better eat that quick," Mado remarked. "It might melt!"

Kaneki closed his eyes.  _I can do it_ , he thought firmly, bringing the cone to his lips _. It's easy. Just one quick swallow, that's all. Don't even taste it. Just pretend to let it sit in your mouth. Then, remember, act like it's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. Remember. Remember?_

His lips closed against the dripping vanilla, and there was no real escaping from the taste. Rivulets of ice-cold piss slid against his tongue, growing warmer and warmer until it burned the taste buds clean off, revoltingly pungent, growing more and more foul with every second it lingered in his mouth. It tasted like he was licking the grout between the tiles of a men's public bathroom.

The cone was cracked against the pavement before he could really stop it from falling. His reflexes were weak, and his palate was still severely human. He could not handle the disgust. His gag reflex was still sharp as ever, however, and his hands clamped over his mouth to keep the stinging bile from belching out.

 _This is not even remotely as easy as Touka and Nishiki make it look,_ he thought bitterly.

A light amount of pressure was placed between his shoulder blades. Kaneki coughed into his hands, cracking one eye open. Amon was frowning, looking as though he'd lost his appetite, while Mado simply smiled placidly.

"Kaneki?" Hide's voice came from Kaneki's shoulder. He patted Kaneki's back, as though to stop him from choking. "Okay, that's enough for today. Thanks so much, Mr. Mado, Koutarou, but I think Kaneki should head home."

Mado's eyes moved to Hide's face, lingering there as Hide threw Kaneki's arm over his shoulder and shifted his weight. Kaneki was still covering his mouth with his hand, and he bowed his head in shame. Certainly Mado was playing a game. He was pushing Kaneki, testing his ghoulishness, and for what? A laugh? Experimentation? Who the fuck even knew?

"That might be for the best," Amon said, his clipped tone suggesting that he was speaking for Mado as well. The man looked, for the first time all day, dejected. As though he were an anxious dog, and Amon had ripped away his chew toy.

Hide bowed his head respectfully and pivoted Kaneki around before he could do the same. He then dragged him down the brick path, left beneath a tall glass platform bridge that connected two halls, and then left again onto a sidewalk. By that point, Kaneki felt dizzy, but no longer nauseous.

"Hide…" Kaneki grasped Hide's elbow, his fingernails digging into the slippery orange fabric. Hide glanced at him. He smiled warmly.

"You don't have to explain anything," he said, clapping his hand over the crown of Kaneki's head and ruffling his hair.

Kaneki opened his mouth to object, but he found he couldn't speak. The quiet humming sounds of the campus were drowned out by a muffling silence. His ears were cupped by two squishy circles, and he touched the headphones gingerly, shooting Hide a wild glance as music suddenly filled his head. It was some kind of rock music, soft rock maybe, nothing too straining but it was still loud enough to disjoint the barrage of unpleasant thoughts that clouded Kaneki's mind.

It was suddenly so very hard to think.

What a surprisingly pleasant sensation.

To be without thought.

* * *

Kaneki tiptoed out across the cool living room floor, moving at a swift pace toward the kitchenette. He'd woken up confused and panicked, sinking into a mattress that was too soft, and he'd thrashed around for a few seconds before recognizing his surroundings. He wasn't imprisoned anymore. He was back at his apartment. The old apartment. There was no use expecting Hinami to come padding softly into his room, swinging the door with her as she knocked thrice, calling to him to wake up, wake up, big brother, let's  _go_! There was no Banjou lounging outside the door, no Tsukiyama waiting to barge in unannounced, and no mystery to unravel. Kaneki had his answers. In part. What he didn't have was that old sense of security.

But… he had Hide.

It was nice to be able to have Hide.

He set up the instant coffee, leaving the kettle on the stove as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and headed toward the couch. Hide was sprawled, one arm and one leg dangling precariously off the side, the other leg stretched out against the back of the couch, and his other arm angled beneath his head. The blanket Kaneki had thrown on him when he'd woken up in the middle of the night and found Hide to still be there was twisted around one leg and bunched around his chest. He looked incredibly uncomfortable.

When the kettle whistled, Kaneki jumped. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed until the damn thing was screaming, so he ran back to the stove and flicked it off, pouring the steaming water into the two cups he'd set aside. He did his best with what he was given, but since he hadn't been grocery shopping in about two weeks, literally all he had was instant coffee, half a cup of sugar, and milk that had gone bad nine days prior. He decidedly tossed that into the trash.

He took a tentative sip of his cup, and he grimaced.

 _This is the shittiest cup of coffee I've ever made_ , he thought grimly.

He felt ashamed. Like a maestro of some ancient art, such as Venetian glass blowing, who'd created a gray, lackluster lump instead of a bright red, hand crafted miniature stallion he'd meant to fashion. What a crippling sensation, to feel as though one's art has been lost.

"Is that coffee I smell?" Hide mumbled as Kaneki set his cup against the coffee table.

"Drink up." Kaneki collapsed into the stiff chair opposite the couch. "You're gonna need it, sleeping on that thing for a whole night."

"Heh…" Hide stretched his arms, making an odd mewling noise, like a cat pawing at the air. "Not so bad… I little rough 'round the edges, but me and ol' Rosebud got used to each other in the end…"

"Don't name my furniture," Kaneki said flatly. He pushed Hide's coffee closer to him. Hide sat upright, tossing the blanket aside and gripping the mug. He lifted it in a mock salute.

"Don't buy cheap, uncomfy furniture, then!" Hide took a long swig of his coffee, and he set the mug down. He was smiling. And then he gave a wild shudder. "Oooh, that's bad. That's bad coffee. Oh, man, I love you, but this is really bad."

"I can probably run and get us some coffee." Kaneki checked his phone for the time, which declared it was nearly seven. There were, of course, numerous places he could make a coffee run too.  _I should stay away from Anteiku_ , he thought, a wave of sadness crashing upon him. He didn't want to rule out Anteiku. In fact, Anteiku was the only place he really wanted to go right now. But how could he, with Mado and Amon sniffing around Kaneki's trail?

"Oh, I'm still gonna drink it!" Hide laughed brightly. "You think I'd make you run around Tokyo at the crack ass of dawn just to meet my whims? You'd be right. Go fetch me something delicious."

"You'd have to be a little more specific," Kaneki said with a slight eye roll. "Our perceptions of the word "delicious" have changed a lot."

"Have they though?" Hide gave a quick wink, taking up his mug again and leaning back. He waited for his joke to settle down and click.

When it did, Kaneki sunk into his seat and flushed.

"I changed my mind," he said flatly. "I am not willing to leave this apartment to do jack shit for you."

"Fair enough!" Hide rested his mug on his knee. "But honestly, if we're gonna talk delicious, I'd say Anteiku—"

"I'm just gonna stop you right there." Kaneki held up both his hands, closing his eyes so that he didn't have to look into Hide's. "Yes, from what I remember, Anteiku has really good deserts. Also, from what I remember, Touka could and would kick your ass into next Sunday, so I'd be careful with how I talk about her."

"Can she really?" When Kaneki opened his eyes, he noted that Hide's had lit up. "How do you know that? Kaneki, you dog! You asked for her number and she turned you down, didn't she? And beat you up for the trouble!"

"No." He almost wished it were that simple. That he could have been a normal boy with a crush on Touka. A crush on Kirishima Touka instead of Kamishiro Rize. That's what a wise boy would do.  _But there's nothing remotely wise in loving Touka either_ , he thought glumly. "Hide, let's talk straight here."

"Speak for yourself."

"What?"

Hide sipped his coffee. He arched an eyebrow. "Continue?"

He eyed Hide warily, but went on with his train of thought. "Okay," he said, flattening his hands in his lap, "so this stays between us. No one else can know."

Hide made a quick motion of zipping up his mouth, locking it up, and flicking the key aside like a used up cigarette butt.

"Touka… is a ghoul." He waited. He searched Hide's face. There was no reaction. Not even a hint of shock. "You don't seem surprised."

"After Miss Rize?" Hide scoffed. "I'm surprised you were the one who got the surprise ghoul date. I was close to asking Touka out myself."

"She would have declined," Kaneki said, though he couldn't really tell how serious Hide was. If he had to take a wild guess, probably between teasing and sarcastic. Hide wasn't the dating type.

"Aw." Hide pouted. "Got some hunk of a ghoul boyfriend, or something?"

"No. It's just… difficult for ghouls and humans to…" Kaneki sighed. Hide snorted into his mug.

"You can say it," he barked, his laughter erratic. "What, don't ghouls fuck the same as humans?"

"Well, I mean—!" Kaneki flushed, biting his tongue as a growl arose from the back of his throat.

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" Hide waved his hand quickly, blinking rapidly. "I'm sure ghoul sex ed is about the same as human sex ed. And interspecies dating would, understandably, be difficult."

"Not impossible, though," Kaneki murmured, thinking of Nishiki and Kimi as wells as Yoshimura and his late wife.

"So, Touka is a ghoul." Hide whirled his finger around in the air. "Big whoop. I still like Anteiku. Don't you?"

"I love Anteiku," he blurted without thought. Hide tilted his head, and he smiled. That seemed to interest him, and make him somewhat happy. Kaneki was fumbling with his fingers nervously, and he sighed. "I mean… I really like going there, but with my current situation…"

"The CCG thing?" Hide pursed his lips. "Which, by the way, was the stupidest thing ever. Stupid."

"Yeah, I know, I know." Kaneki wrung his hands in his lap. "But Anteiku is literally run by ghouls— good ghouls! I went there the night I… I told you. Before I turned myself in… and the manager there, he gave me— uh, food…"

"Human flesh," Hide clarified with a curt nod. It was nonchalantly spoken.  _Yes_ , he was saying,  _I too know the topsy-turvy ways of the ghouls_.

"Right. He gave it to me, and he told me to come back any time I needed help." Kaneki's eyes were wide and his voice was squeaky from desperation to get his message across clearly. "They're good people there. They like humans, and not as meals, but as actual people. They help ghouls who can't help themselves, and they don't kill people."

Hide was quiet. He sat, gripping his mug as its steam rose and curled around his nose and mouth. Reluctantly, he smiled.

"Sounds like a fairy tale," he murmured.

"It's true," Kaneki said firmly. "I swear."

"I believe you, man." Hide cracked a grin, and he set his mug aside. "Okay, I get it. Anteiku is a nice place full of nice people. It's nice, it's willing to help you, it solved your food problem, and you love it there… so now you're hopped on the CCG train and you're going to punish yourself and never go to that place again."

"That's putting it rather harshly, I think."

"I'm sorry." Hide's smile fell, and he looked momentarily confused. "I thought you wanted me to be more confrontational about stuff I'd normally keep to myself. Like how when you start liking something too much you start putting it at a distance."

"That's not true!" Kaneki's eyes were wide, and he knew it was a lie. He jerked his face away, scratching his cheek. "I haven't put you at a distance."  _Yet_.

"And for that, I'm eternally grateful." Hide rolled his eyes. "Real talk here. Going to Anteiku a few times won't lead the CCG to raid the place. In fact, it'll be more suspicious of you just stop showing up altogether. The CCG is clever, okay, they'll be doing all their research, plugging in data about all the places you regularly visited pre-surgery and all the places you visit now, post-surgery. They  _will_  notice you stopped going to Anteiku at some point, and they  _will_  investigate it." Hide pointed at Kaneki, his face eerily blank. "If you punish yourself, you'll punish them."

Kaneki wasn't sure how much he liked confrontational Hide.

But he sure got his message across loud and clear.

"Hide, I'm going to be working for the CCG." He folded his hands, his thumbs rubbed up against each other, twiddling rapidly. "I can't just go in there if I have Amon or Mado at my back!"

"Then don't go in there when they're with you?" Hide rolled his eyes. "Don't go in there when you're on duty? The CCG is smart, but unless someone tips them off, they won't be looking to Anteiku for suspicious activity."

"How do you know?" Kaneki snapped.

Hide stared at him. Kaneki felt immediately guilty for lashing out, because Hide was giving him a blank, bemused look. Innocent of all crimes, guileless and confused. Like a kicked puppy. How could Kaneki really expect Hide to be a hundred percent positive, and have immediate explanations for theories he probably cooked up on the spot?

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"No worries, bro." Hide ruffled his twisted, matted hair, and he grimaced. "Ew, my hair's greasy as hell."

"It looks fine," Kaneki offered.

"You've never dyed your hair, buddy. You don't understand this kind of suffering." Hide cracked a grin, and Kaneki could only smile back weakly. He thought of his hair after Aogiri's torture, snowy white and coarse as straw. It had fallen limply across his forehead, never quite clean enough, always looking frizzy and split, like he could never get it healthy.

"Fair enough."

"So…" Hide stretched back, turning his eyes toward the ceiling. "You work for the CCG now. You know that's dangerous, right? They don't care about ghouls at all. You might just be an experiment to them."

Kaneki took his coffee mug in his hands, warmth radiating against his cold palms, and he smiled vacantly.

"I'm banking on it," he said.

Hide left sometime later, returning home to shower and do some last minute homework. He warned Kaneki not to miss too much school, or else he'd be at the point of a mental break when exams rolled around. Kaneki didn't want to tell him that he didn't plan on continuing school. But perhaps this time, it would make sense for Kaneki to continue with his schooling.

To pass the time, Kaneki ended up picking up some old novels he hadn't touched since the beginning of high school. He had a few foreign classics, some things by Kafka, Hugo, two books full of sonnets by Shakespeare and Petrarch respectively, and a worn leather copy of one  _Divine Comedy_ that he'd bought at a yard sale Hide had dragged him to in his second year. Hide had mocked him for it.  _You learning Italian now, buddy?_

The book was so old that it had not yet been translated adequately into English, let alone Japanese. But Kaneki thought that had been part of its charm.

He picked up the book, thumbing through it pensively. It was easy to train his eyes to read from left to right, but Italian was nothing like English, and the words were so flippant and complicated and yet, clipped and to the point. There were apostrophes in places Kaneki didn't think needed apostrophes. Romantic languages seemed to be filled with a delicate, ornate style that Germanic languages seemed to lack out of spite.

A knock broke him out of his reverie just as he was trying to puzzle out the subtle nuances of modern linguistics.

He set the book aside and moved cautiously toward the door. When he peered through the peephole, he sighed, unlocking his door and swinging it open.

"Come in," he told Amon, turning away from the doorway. The man was very bulky, filling up most of the doorframe, and he ducked into the room as though it was too short for his stature. It wasn't. He was lowering himself in an attempt to seem more approachable. It was kinda admirable.

"Good morning, Kaneki," he greeted, using the same clipped, softly familiar tone of  _Kaneki-san_  he'd adopted the day before. "You look better."

It was true, yesterday he'd looked quite like a ghost. Dark hair matted around a pallid face, sunken eyes and chapped, thin lips. Not to mention how skinny he'd become because the sudden weight loss. Today at least his hair was combed, and he was wearing fresh clothing that seemed to fit. There was no helping the bags under his eyes or his complexion, though.

"Thank you, sir." Kaneki folded up the blanket Hide had used the night before and tucked it in a bin beside the couch. "Do you want some coffee? It's disgusting, but strong."

Amon looked at him, blinking rapidly before smiling. "Sure," he said. "Just no milk, please."

"Yeah, I don't have any milk, so don't worry." Kaneki went through the motions of making instant coffee again, tossing the kettle back onto the stove. "You're lactose intolerant?"

"Yes. Though it's honestly not so bad, just… mildly inconvenient."

 _Mildly inconvenient dietary restrictions_ , Kaneki thought, pulling his glass cup full of sugar across the countertop.  _Say it isn't so_.

"It's nice of Mr. Mado to keep lactates at hand for you," Kaneki said absently.

Amon was quiet. Kaneki scooped a spoonful of sugar into the cup, listening to the grains crunch together.

"Kaneki, what Mado did to you yesterday was wrong."

The kettle began to whistle.

Kaneki stared at his wall, cupping the glass of sugar in both hands. Steam blew into his eyes and screamed into his ears.

 _This world is wrong_.

Shaky words from a strong man in a strange place on a stressful night.

"Kaneki…"

He turned the stove off and shifted the screeching kettle. He turned around to face the man.

"What would you have done to me if I wasn't half human?" he asked vacantly. Amon looked alarmed, and he turned his eyes away.

"I suppose we would have apprehended you, so long as you didn't put up a fight…"

"And of course I would have," Kaneki said quietly, "because I'd be terrified. But ghouls can't plead self-defense, can they?"

Amon's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry about what happened to you," he said firmly. "But you need to remember that ghouls are not your friends or your kin just because you are similar to them now. You seem like a good person, Kaneki. You care about people."

He had to turn away at that. Caring about people seemed to get him in the worst situations. Caring about humans, caring about ghouls. Why did everyone expect him to choose?

He poured the water into the mug, and he shrugged. "I don't think being a good person is solely attributed to the human part of me," he said carefully, offering out the mug. "But thanks."

"You're also a pretty confusing guy." Amon offered a half smile. "Did you know Kamishiro Rize was a ghoul before you dated her?"

"Nope. If I did I wouldn't have gone out with her." Kaneki thumbed the rim of his mug. "She was terrifying."

"And she was your only real run in with a ghoul, I assume." Amon shot him a puzzled glance as he took the mug from Kaneki. "So why? Why do you talk about ghouls so… defensively?"

"Because I am one."

"No ghoul has the experience you have." Amon took a sip of his coffee, and he managed not to make a face. In fact, he didn't seem to mind it at all. "You are singularly unique, Kaneki, because you are neither human nor ghoul."

Kaneki couldn't help but smile at that. "You're right," he said, staring into Amon's dark eyes. "I'm both. So please, understand why I feel obligated to speak candidly. I relate to ghouls and humans equally. What I say is just representative of that."

"And you sound so certain." Amon shrugged, sipping at his coffee absently. "I can't blame you. You haven't really gotten the real horrific experience of ghoul investigating yet. You'll understand soon, when you're out in the field."

"Wait, what?" Kaneki stood up straight, his eyes snapping wide. "Am I already approved by the CCG to do stuff?"

"You have an interview with an investigator of higher rank than Mado," Amon told him, walking over to the coffee table and setting his mug down. He dug through his pockets and retrieved a folded envelope, handing it off to Kaneki. He sat down as he glanced over the stamp that labeled it official CCG documentation, the weird dove sigil. "You're to report to a different ward's headquarters, considering you're a bit of a priority case. The directions are in there, but I'd advise taking the subway if possible."

"Okay." Kaneki sat down. He unfolded the envelope, flattening out the paper against this knee. Amon watched, taking a few quick sips of his coffee as Kaneki rifled through the paperwork. There were some things here that looked like he needed a lawyer present to sign. "Amon, if I sign these, will the CCG have the right to dissect me, or something?"

Amon snorted into his mug. "That won't happen," he assured quickly.

"The CCG isn't exactly known for its mercy toward ghouls." Kaneki stared up at the man with wide, imploring eyes. "Amon, please. What is all this?"

Amon's gaze softened considerably, and he cautiously moved closer to Kaneki's chair. He loomed over the table, a yawning shadow that gobbled up everything in sight. And then he knelt beside Kaneki's chair, and he took the papers gingerly from Kaneki's white-knuckled hands.

"Hm…" Amon's eyes flickered across the tops of each paper. He thumbed through the first three, and he set the others aside. "Okay, so this one is your map, your directions, the investigator you're meeting with, all that. This one," Amon placed his hand flat against the paper so it didn't fold up on the table, "is a basic health form. They want your medical records. Don't freak out, just contact your regular doctor, fax this form to him, have him email it to the CCG. Easy. Now this one…" He moved on to the third paper. He pointed to it, and met Kaneki's eye. They were almost eyelevel. "It's a liability waiver. You're basically signing over your right to a legal suit against the CCG for any injury you receive while working there. It's like any job, really. Except you have a much higher chance of dying while working as a ghoul investigator."

"Is that all?" Kaneki asked flatly.

"No." Amon picked up the rest of the papers. "This one is basic info about the CCG, things you need to have in order, also the benefits you get. You'll be fed and sheltered if need be, your hospital bills will be paid for, your funeral— if need be— will be a public ceremony sponsored by the CCG. General stuff."

"I love it when job benefits include funerary fees," Kaneki said with the faux enthusiasm of a man speaking to his executioner.

"Trust me, it's a really nice thing." Amon shifted through the papers with a somber expression. "Many investigators don't have families. Many do, and their families can't afford the kind of funeral investigators deserve. This is for the best."

"Okay." Kaneki couldn't help but agree when it was put like that. And, honestly, he'd never really thought about his funeral before. Who  _would_ pay for such a thing? They were costly affairs, after all.

"This one is tax stuff," Amon tossed that onto the table. "This one is a basic overview of your job description and another place you have to sign, just read over it to make sure nothing looks weird to you. Or you can wait until your interview tomorrow."

He thought about his interview with Mado back at Cochlea, and he grimaced. "If I don't pass this… evaluation," he said, choosing his words carefully, "will I get sent back to ghoul prison?"

Amon glanced at him. He bowed his head, and gathered up the papers into a neat pile.

"I'm not exactly sure," he admitted.

"Damn." Kaneki rubbed his face tiredly.

"For what it's worth, it'll go much smoother than the one with Mado did." Amon tried to look reassuring, but his expression merely made Kaneki shudder. He didn't want to think about it. "And once this is over, you'll be given the okay to start working. You will definitely need to be careful, though, since you've never been in any real fights before. Have you?"

"Um…" Kaneki wondered how he should reply, because regardless it would be a lie. "I think like, when I was in middle school there were scuffles, but…"

"Right." Amon nodded firmly. "Don't worry, you'll get proper training before you're out in the field."

"Really?" Kaneki was curious. What did training mean? Was it like training with Touka? If so, he'd much rather train with Touka than Amon. "Thank you."

"Don't worry so much, Kaneki." Amon smiled, and it was a small, genuine little thing that sat at the corners of his mouth and made the corners of his eyes wrinkle. Kaneki was surprised. This time, instead of  _Kaneki-san_ , he'd said  _Kaneki-kun_. "We're not evil, and we do want to help you. Your offer has been the buzz of the office building all day."

"All encouraging buzz, I'd imagine," Kaneki said dryly.

"Once they actually meet you it will be different."

"Yeah." Kaneki nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course. I'm not a monster."

He wasn't really sure how true that was. Monsters came in all shapes in sizes. And he had sullied himself far too much to claim any sort of innocence.

Amon reached for his mug, but instead his hand found the worn leather cover of the book Kaneki had been looking at when he'd knocked. He dragged it closer, and Kaneki watched vacantly as he pulled it into his lap.

" _La Divina Commedia_ ," he read off the spine of the book, easy syllables falling from his lips, as though his tongue had been tempered by Roman aqueducts. " _Purgatorio_. Are you reading this?"

"I don't understand Italian." Kaneki gave a weak shrug. "I kinda bought it on a whim when I was younger."

"Oh. So you're probably missing the others."

"What others?"

"There are three." Amon opened the cover gingerly, as though it might fall apart at any given moment. " _Inferno_ , Dante's most well known work,  _Purgatorio,_  which is what you have here, and the finally,  _Paradiso_. Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise."

"Oh, right. I guess I didn't even know which one I had." Kaneki glanced away. "That's embarrassing. I'm a literature student."

Amon wasn't listening. He was looking at the inside of the book. Or, possibly, actually reading it.

"Amon?"

He looked up. He'd already flipped through the book, decidedly skimming through some bits. He looked down again.

" _Ed elli a me: 'La grave condizione di lor tormento a terra li rannicchia s_ _ì_ _che i miei occhi pria n'ebber tencione. Ma guarda fiso l_ _à_ _, e disviticchia col viso quell che vien sotto a quei sassi: gi_ _à scorger puoi come ciascun si picchia._ '" The words were less fluidly spoken than the title, but Amon still held a steady grasp on how to pronounce these foreign words, and Kaneki merely sat, stunned. He felt like he was sitting with Tsukiyama, as though perhaps nothing had happened, that he was back with Hinami and Banjou and that ragtag gang that he'd assembled.

But no. It was just Koutarou Amon reading Italian.

Somehow this was freakier than it would've been if it'd been Tsukiyama. At least in some way, the rapid Italian would make sense coming from him.

This was simply weird.

"Wow," Kaneki remarked. "You know Italian?"

Amon frowned. "I know  _La Divina Comedia_ ," he said. He shrugged, and he closed his eyes. "Let me think… was it, "And he said to me: 'What…ever makes them suffer their heavy torment bends them to the ground; at first I was… uh… not sure of what they were. But look intently there, and let your eyes unravel what's beneath those stones: you can already see what penalty strikes each.'"

Kaneki sat with his hands between his knees. He stared with wide eyes, a tight smile on his lips.

"Oh," he said weakly.

Amon clapped the book shut and rested it on the table. "Thank you for the coffee," he said, standing up. "I'd suggest getting a copy in a language you understand, to help you puzzle out the rest of Purgatory."

"Thank you for your help," Kaneki said vacantly. "And… for reading that. I'll definitely go ahead and buy a copy in Japanese."

"That's probably wise." Amon nodded. "I'll see you soon, Kaneki."

He offered out his hand, and Kaneki lifted himself from his chair to warily shake it.

At sure I was not sure of what they were, Kaneki thought. He stared at Amon, and he bit his lip sheepishly. "Um," he said, "what exactly was Dante talking about? In that quote you read?"

"Oh." Amon shook his head. "Well, that was spoken by Virgil, I think. They were looking at the arrogant, whose burden basically bent them so low to the ground that they looked inhuman."

"They were brought down to earth," Kaneki murmured.

"Ha, that's one way to put it." Amon smiled. "I honestly never really understood any of it. I just know that the people looked so distorted, they no longer looked like people. It's a pretty gruesome tale."

"No, I mean the prideful were humbled. That's basically the punishment they received." Kaneki blinked rapidly. "I need to go buy this book."

"You go do that." Amon laughed, waving him goodbye. "And don't get into any trouble. The CCG can't promise to protect you."

"I think I can take care of myself," Kaneki said, waving back at the man with a small smile. "But thanks, Amon."

* * *

The CCG building he had to go to for his meeting looked about the same as the other CCG. It might have been bigger. Kaneki wasn't really sure. He spent the journey there, which was not a very long trip, biting his cuticles and avoiding making eye contact with the other passengers. He was used to just walking everywhere. The subway was kinda new.

He also thought about Anteiku. What Hide had said. Avoiding his problems had always made things worse in the past. And avoiding Anteiku— he'd been a fool the first time around. He didn't want to make the same mistakes, or else, well, was any of this even worth it?

On his way from the subway station to the CCG headquarters he'd bumped into a kid. A familiar wave of déjà vu hit him as the kid bowed quickly, apologizing in a soft, giddy little voice that reminded Kaneki of childhood. Then the kid was off, bustling down a street and into a crowd, and Kaneki was left with the odd, numbing sensation that he'd been here before.

 _That person… smelled really good_ … It was an irritating thing, to be so tuned in to sense of smell that the soft, tantalizing aroma of some kid on a street made him hungry.

He sat in a waiting area after telling the receptionist his name. He felt like he was waiting for a doctor's appointment.

"Kaneki Ken?"

When Kaneki looked up, he found that the man who had spoken was broad-shouldered, heavily built middle-aged man. He was wearing a suit, as Amon had been the day before, and holding a bundle of papers in his large hands. When Kaneki stood, the man turned his face, and Kaneki noticed his large, kind eyes and his soft smile. He was a pretty large guy, but Kaneki got the impression that though he looked very sturdy, and his hair was shorn in a closely cropped militaristic style, he was far from intimidating.

"Hello," he said, gripping the strap of his beige messenger bag and staring up at the man. "Um. Shinohara Yukinori…?"

"Kaneki Ken." The man smiled warmly, and he offered out his massive hand. Kaneki took it, blinking at the firmness of his handshake. "Wow, look at you! Wait, how old are you?"

"I'm… eighteen…?" Kaneki had to think about it. His age. He'd nearly forgotten.

"Right, right, okay, just making sure." Shinohara placed his hand gently on Kaneki's back and ushered him toward the RC detector. "You look younger. Oh, this is going to go off by the way, don't worry—"

Shinohara stopped as Kaneki moved through the RC detector smoothly, glancing back at the machine as it kept itself quiet in spite of its encounter with a ghoul.

"Huh." Shinohara tilted his head. "That's funny. I'll have to make a call to make sure this thing is working."

"That detects ghouls," Kaneki said, jerking his thumb at the machine. "Right?"

"Yeah, that's its main purpose. I expect Mado's already given you the gist of RC stuff." Shinohara led him through a hall. They passed by people, but none of them gave Kaneki so much as a glance. Perhaps it wasn't common knowledge that Shinohara was interviewing the infamous half-ghoul boy.

"Yeah…" Kaneki looked down at his feet. "Um… about Mr. Mado…"

"He's a lot to take in." Shinohara shot Kaneki a sympathetic glance. They were headed up a flight of pale steps. It seemed the CCG was very brightly lit, and very white.  _Doves_ , he thought vacantly, glancing around the expansive building. "Personally, I wouldn't want to be his underling if I were in your shoes. He's not the most open minded fellow."

"No."

Kaneki must have sounded more angry and bitter than he'd meant to, because Shinohara stopped in the middle of the steps to turn back to him. People passed by them, this time shooting confused glances.

"Did he do something?" Shinohara asked.

"What…?"

"Kaneki," Shinohara said in a very soft, very fond voice, "Mado is a good man. But good men are still very flawed. If Mado did or said something to you, something that might have made you feel uncomfortable, you should tell me."

Kaneki's eyes were very wide. He felt like he was in middle school, like he was about to tattle on some kid for making a mean comment. It was humbling to be staring up at a man who seemed to know exactly what to say to make Kaneki feel like a child.

"It's…" Kaneki didn't know. He didn't want to say anything. It could make his situation worse, if everyone knew, couldn't it? He needed to be careful. He wanted to convince the CCG that some ghouls could be trusted, but to do that he also needed to convince them that he was human enough to protect.

"You don't have to tell me," Shinohara said. "I won't make you. But it might make you feel better to talk about it."

Talking about things. What a foreign concept.

"Can… we not talk about it here?" Kaneki glanced around the stairwell sheepishly.

Shinohara blinked. And then he laughed heartily. "Oh. Of course. Come on, then. This way."

They headed up the stairs, moving at a brisk pace through the hall and into a room. Shinohara closed the door behind them and offered Kaneki a seat. It was a generic looking office, though there was a window that overlooked the Tokyo skyline, which was something Kaneki appreciated. It was difficult to say if this was Shinohara's office, since it had no personality, and there was nothing to suggest that  _anyone_  really used it.

"Okay." Shinohara did not sit on the other side of the desk, but instead dragged the other chair closer to Kaneki, and flipped it around so they were facing each other. He folded his hands in his lap, and he looked at Kaneki expectantly. "Please explain. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, or get anyone into trouble."

Kaneki sat, staring at the man vacantly. He felt so indefinably at ease, and it was jarring to him, because he didn't know this man, and he didn't want to trust this man, but somehow it was impossible not to believe that he was exactly what he seemed. His demeanor reminded Kaneki quite a bit of Banjou.

"It's not really a big deal," he said quickly. "Um… well, he bought ice cream for a friend of mine, and Amon, and… well, he already knew I can't eat normal food anymore." Kaneki shifted uncomfortably. Shinohara watched him intently. "But he insisted, so… I mean, it's really not a big deal!"

"Your taste buds have changed, right?" Shinohara leaned back in his seat. "What did it taste like?"

Kaneki grimaced. "I don't think you really want to know."

"No, I do." Shinohara's eyes widened. "Please, tell me."

"Uh… well…" Kaneki shifted in his seat. "Honestly, like… like licking cold piss off the floor of a public bathroom."

"Well that's vivid!" Shinohara gave a hearty laugh, a booming fatherly chuckle that surprised Kaneki. "And understandably awful! Listen, Kaneki, your situation is not a good one. I won't sugar coat it. Your life is gonna be hard to manage from now on, if you want to survive in the CCG, and in the human world. It might have been easier for you to abandon your humanity and run off into the bowels of Tokyo. Join a nasty ghoul organization, kill people to survive."

Kaneki sat in a stunned silence.  _You're not wrong_ , he thought sadly.

" _But_ ," Shinohara continued, speaking so firmly that he could probably pin an elephant in place, "that's not what you did. You went to the CCG, which was a pretty bold choice, and you turned yourself in without thinking about the consequences. You're a very brave boy, Kaneki Ken." He smiled, and it made his face seem worn and soft. "It's important that what you did for yourself and for others is remembered. What Mado did was for his own reasons, and I'll have a discussion with him— oh, please don't make that face, Kaneki, it's important that you're treated well. You are a person. You deserve to be treated as such."

Kaneki couldn't find the words to respond. He simply sat dazedly in the chair facing this man, this ghoul investigator who was so irrationally kind, and so unbearably intuitive. He knew exactly what Kaneki needed to hear.

"Thank… you," Kaneki said distantly.

"This meeting was supposed to be an evaluation, to see if you're actually fit, psychologically, to work for the CCG." Shinohara shrugged, rolling his eyes. "I'm not a psychiatrist. The CCG has never cared before if a person was "psychologically fit" or whatever. If they did, they'd hire someone with a real degree to talk to the people here who have a lot of internalized issues that they can't work out by themselves."

"So what you're saying is that they only care with me because I'm a ghoul." Kaneki grimaced. "Fair enough, I guess. But… if it's any consolation, I think you're really good at this."

Shinohara smiled, his head bowing a bit as his shoulder jerked in a half chuckle. "That's sweet of you," he said. "Honestly half the time I ask myself if I'm really doing any good? But it's worth it in the end. Anyway, I'm just going to ask you a couple questions. You don't have to answer, but these are things the CCG wants to know. Okay?"

"Let's go." Kaneki made a gesture, as if to tell Shinohara to hit him with his best shot. Shinohara smirked, and nodded.

The questions were similar to the ones Mado had asked, but Shinohara gave Kaneki the chance to explain himself. Kaneki was able to fully express how though his appetite dictated the need to eat people, he was dead set against doing so. He was also able to warn Shinohara that he'd become very dangerous if left starving, and that he was pretty sure that was simply the case with all ghouls, that hunger left them in a frenzy, and there wasn't much humanity left.

"You think other ghouls have humanity?" Shinohara asked curiously.

"I think it'd be ignorant to assume all ghouls are mindless beasts," Kaneki replied.

"Well said."

In the end, Kaneki ended up liking Shinohara a whole lot. Like, more than Kaneki had ever expected to like anyone in the CCG. He liked speaking to this man more than he liked even Amon, who had a tendency to dance around the topic of Kaneki being a ghoul. Shinohara addressed that. He didn't remind Kaneki of his human side, or splice him into sections, as though there was a clear distinction between himself and the ghoul organs inside him. He was very considerate, and he took Kaneki's words to heart, writing down his answers and asking questions about his sleeping habits, if he was feeling anxious or depressed since the operation, if he'd experimented with medication yet.

Kaneki was able to leave, and as he was walking toward the RC detector he heard someone calling his name. He turned, only to find Shinohara jogging toward him. There was a child gliding at his back, chin lifted toward the ceiling. When they were close enough, Kaneki was hit with a familiar aroma, the mixture of caramelized apples doused in cinnamon, cherry syrup, and something artificial, like jolly ranchers melting in someone else's mouth.

"Oh, hey!" Kaneki gasped, pointing at the child. "It's you!"

"Juuzou," Shinohara said to the child sternly. They glanced up at the man with enormous, cloudy red eyes, and they puffed out their cheeks. They turned on their heels and marched up to Kaneki, grabbing his wrist with small, dexterous fingers, and clapping something into his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Kaneki Ken!" Juuzou chirped, drawing out every syllable with a sweet, sing song note. K _a_ -ne- _ki_  Ke- _e_ n!

"Oh." Kaneki blinked rapidly. He looked down at the kid's hand, which was pale and bony, red string sticking out of his skin. Stitches? Beneath the hand, Kaneki saw his wallet. He blinked rapidly, and recalled that this had happened before, that this person, Juuzou, had stolen his wallet once. Kaneki couldn't find it in him to feign surprise. "Oh. That's my wallet."

"Juuzou," Shinohara said once again in the same stern tone. Juuzou sighed loftily.

"I am  _so_ —" Their apology was loud and almost sarcastic, clearly forced and irritated. Kaneki cut in, taking his wallet from Juuzou quickly and beaming at them.

"You found my wallet!" he gasped, his fingers brushing his chin on their way to clapping Juuzou on the shoulder. "Thank you so much, I thought I left it on the subway!"

Juuzou stared at him with large eyes and a gaping mouth. Shinohara looked just as stunned.

"Uh…" Juuzou glanced back at Shinohara. They didn't seem to know what to do or say now.

He didn't know why he did it. He supposed he understood Shinohara's intention of making Juuzou apologize, but he didn't want either of them to feel bad about it. Looking at Juuzou, Kaneki now understood a lot of Shinohara's demeanor. He was clearly in charge of Juuzou in some way, and that responsibility must have made given him the insight he'd used with Kaneki. A comfortable, fatherly figure with helpful advice to spare.

"Kaneki… Juuzou didn't…" Shinohara didn't seem to want Kaneki to be deluded into thinking Juuzou had actually rescued his wallet. So Kaneki shot him a glance, and a knowing smile, and he shrugged.

"No, it's fine," he said, "let me make it up to you both. I don't really have anything to do, and I'm not super into bracing the subway again, so maybe I can treat you guys to lunch?"

Juuzou perked up considerably, their head jerking toward Shinohara excitedly. Shinohara stared at Kaneki for a long time.

"Kaneki… that's very nice of you, but are you sure…?"

"Please." Kaneki smiled at him warmly. "It's… been awhile since I've really gone out. It'd be fun."

"Shinohara!" Juuzou was bouncing on the balls of their feet, still gripping Kaneki's wrist. Their grip had tightened, as though they were now far too reluctant to ever actually let go. "Shinohara, please, please, please, pretty please with sugar and cherries and sprinkles and—!"

"Okay, okay," Shinohara laughed. "Calm down, Juuzou, we'll go. Let me just go get my coat."

"Yay!" Juuzou looped their arm between Kaneki's hooking them together happily. "Can I get dessert, Kaneki?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Awesome!" Juuzou bounced happily in place. "You're awesome!" They bounced back, and offered out their bony hand, beaming up at Kaneki. "I'm Suzuya Juuzou!"

Kaneki laughed, and shook their hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said, making them burst into a fit of sharp little giggles, likely because he'd intentionally used the same tone they had upon meeting him. "Those stitches are really interesting."

"Hm?" Juuzou looked down at their arm, and they cracked a grin. "You like them?"

"They're cool," he said, blinking down at their arm. "But didn't that hurt?"

They shook their head. "Nah." They shrugged nonchalantly. "Would it hurt you if I sewed you up?"

"Probably…" Kaneki smiled weakly. "Please don't do that."

"Ha ha! Don't be so squirmy!" Suzuya poked him in the stomach. "I won't actually do it! I was just wondering, since Shinohara said you're not like other people, and to be careful."

"Careful?" Kaneki felt his stomach drop in disappointment. "Of… me…?"

"What?" Suzuya squinted at him. "No way, be careful that I don't spook you. He said something like, 'Now Kaneki has got a lot of stuff on his mind, so don't you go teasing him with your usual bullshit!'" Suzuya snickered. "He didn't say that. But basically he said not to scare you. Did I scare you yet?"

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"Oh, no!" Suzuya shook their head. "No, no, you'd know if I was trying to scare you. But I think it's funny. You know?" They cocked their head, fluffy white hair bunching against their round cheeks. "I'm getting told not to go ahead and scare a ghoul."

Kaneki averted his eyes. He spotted Shinohara across the room, and he hoped this wasn't a huge mistake. "Does that… bother you, Suzuya?" he asked tentatively.

"What?"

"That I'm a ghoul."

Suzuya gave a mighty scoff. "Why should I care?" they hummed, reeling back on their heels. "I mean I guess I'd kill you if I was told to, but I like you! You're buying me sweets."

"Uh…" Kaneki laughed nervously. "Fair enough, I guess."

 _I'd kill you if I was told to_.

This was Kaneki's life now. Even if he made friends, it was possible that they might be forced into playing a hand in his execution. Some time. Some place. Maybe tomorrow, or maybe never.

The possibilities were endless in this new, fucked up world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stygius, stygia, stygium [adj].  
> stygian (relating to the river styx); hellish; deadly; dismal, melancholy.


	5. fustitudinus

"Yooo! Bring me a coffee, Jeeves!"

Kaneki slammed the door shut in Hide's face.

The suit he had to wear to work at the CCG was no fancier than the uniform at Anteiku. It was simply a black suit coat over an ironed white button down. Kaneki wore a tie. That was about it. It felt no different than a school uniform. Unfortunately it was more expensive than a school uniform, so he'd been given these clothes by Amon a few days before. He didn't know where they'd come from, but they fit him well enough, so he couldn't complain.

Hide poked his head through the door, making a pouty face. "How rude! Do they not teach you manners at the Butler Academy of Butlering?" He kicked Kaneki's door open and strolled in, throwing his backpack onto Kaneki's couch and throwing his body with it about a second later.

"Get your shoes off the couch," Kaneki said, moving quickly to rescue his books from the threat of the coffee mug that sat on the table near Hide.

"Me and Rosebud have a special relationship, Kaneki, I can wear my sneakers if I wanna."

"That's cute," Kaneki said, setting his books aside. "Get your shoes off the couch."

"Yeesh!" Hide stretched his arms behind his head and twisted his body so his legs were dangling off the side of the couch. " _Fine_ , grouchy!"

Kaneki washed out his coffee cup, drizzling soap into it and swiping the inside of the mug with a rag. Hide had sat up on the couch behind him, eyes big and curious.

"So you're starting today, huh?"

"Oh, no," Kaneki laughed, turning his head back to smirk at Hide, "I'm going to a funeral."

Hide smirked right back, giving a minute eye roll to suggest he'd caught on. "Oh yeah? Who died?"

"A good old friend of mine named GPA." Kaneki set his mug into the drying rack, turning to face Hide as he rung the rag in his hands. "God rest his soul."

Hide barked a sharp, obscenely loud laugh. "Godspeed, GPA!" Hide shouted, doing a mock salute at no one in particular. "Quite frankly, you never had a chance!"

Kaneki covered his mouth, his laughter bubbling up in his chest and falling in soft patters from his mouth, like rain battering against window glass. It was nice to just laugh. This felt so light. Everything felt so light for once, like a burden had been lifted for just a few moments, and he could just breathe easy knowing that Hide was here, that Hide was breathing, that Hide knew about Kaneki's struggles and he still came over every day, still loved and trusted and cared for Kaneki for some inexplicable reason.

What had happened in the past— in the future that no longer existed— did not matter. Not when it came to Hide.

"Is this CCG thing gonna conflict with school that much?" Hide gave a little pout. "Why can't you just work part time? Don't they know you're a student?"

"They definitely know," Kaneki sighed, tossing the rag over the edge of the sink. "The CCG has its own school, and it's pretty unusual for someone to be pursuing a degree elsewhere. Maybe people just don't live that long. I don't know."

"Now don't say that," Hide laughed. "You should be safe with the CCG, right? You're not authorized to go ghoul hunting just yet, because you're so completely hopeless at fighting, right?" He laughed some more, and Kaneki smiled. Hide, as brash and bold as he was, was really good at knowing when to say the right things.

"I'm dropping out, Hide." Kaneki continued to smile as Hide's head jerked sharply in Kaneki's direction. The smile was tight and strained. He wasn't happy about it, but school was just too much to handle. It was so stressful, and for someone like him, it needed his full, undivided attention or else there would be a plethora of panic attacks that were simply unneeded.

"You're dropping out of school?" Hide sunk into the couch. All that was visible to Kaneki were tufts of blonde hair and dark roots that never seemed to actually grow out. "Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. You'll be busy with work."

"I'd give anything to be a normal college student again," Kaneki murmured. "But right now it's impossible."

"You don't need to explain anything to me, bro." Hide stood, catching his backpack on his arm and adjusting his headphones around his neck. "I get it. School would be too much. But…"

Kaneki swallowed. There was a dry patch in his throat that made it difficult to swallow comfortably. He looked down at his hands. He hadn't put on the suit coat yet, so he was just wearing the white shirt and spare tie. He felt like this was a costume. Like he'd outgrown such normalcy like suit-and-tie attire. Did people really fight in these?

"But…?" Kaneki pressed, not comfortable with letting Hide leave with such a string of unbearable possibilities hanging on this one word.

Hide smiled at him sheepishly. "You don't plan on being with the CCG your whole life, do you?"

Kaneki blinked rapidly. It was something he hadn't really considered until this point. Or, really, in a very long time. What did the far future hold for him? Would he live that long? He'd been so preoccupied with the dangers of the present, it never occurred to him that his life was not meant to be long term. A life of hunting and being hunted could never be kept for long, no matter how well adjusted one became to it.

"I don't know, Hide," he said earnestly, standing with his arms hanging limply at his sides, his mind rushing in the horror of the future, which had always scared him. Anxiety had him in a headlock. He was struggling to feed air through his windpipe.

"Well I guess it doesn't matter much," Hide chirped, gripping his bag tightly. Kaneki nodded, nodding, nods, pressing his lips together thinly. He had to calm down, he knew it, but he was  _scared_. What if none of this worked? What if more people got hurt because of this stupid choice he'd made?

The air tasted dry, and it scraped his throat, rubbing it red and raw. Whatever happened now, whatever happened, it would surely be Kaneki's fault.

"I mean, frankly," Hide said very loudly, "I have no fucking clue what I'm doing with  _my_  life. At least you have a job!"

"Y-yeah," Kaneki stammered, fidgeting with his sweaty hands. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Back before, he could compartmentalize. Depression was constant, anxiety and fear gnawing constantly at his heels, but he made it all bend at the will of his determination. He had to do what he did. That's just what he'd told himself back then, like a mantra, that he had to go this way, choose this path, bloody his teeth and bare them to the world. He'd outrun the fear and anxiety and depression.

But it always came back.

He'd never conquered anything.

He just kept running away.

What future did confrontation hold?

"Are you gonna be okay, Kaneki?"

Hide was standing right before him suddenly, smiling his easy, dopey smile, as though the world was just good laughs and good times, and it was such a pure, infectious thing. It made Kaneki smile too, even though his insides felt like they were all tied in knots and his mind was eating itself away in horror of what could be, what might happen, what he fucked up already.

"I think so," he said weakly.

Hide nodded firmly. "Good," he said. He turned away. "Okay, gotta head out now, or else I'll be half an hour late. If you need anything, just text me."

"Sure thing." Kaneki took a deep breath, closing his eyes. And then they snapped open. "Hide, wait!"

"Yeah?" Hide leaned against the door, blinking guilelessly.

"Nishio Nishiki. Don't go anywhere with him alone."

Hide smiled vacantly. "Oh, don't worry," he said with a bright laugh. "I don't really trust that guy much. Don't worry about me, Kaneki."

"But…"

"It's fine, buddy," Hide said gently, backing out the door. "It's just school."

Hide left the conversation at that. It should have made Kaneki feel better, but it didn't. He didn't want to be distrustful of Nishiki, but he had to remember how problematic the guy had been at first. God, he'd been an asshole. Kaneki had no idea how he was going to find a way around Nishiki's bad attitude, but he'd have to eventually, right?

He shrugged on his suit coat and set out. All in all, he felt simply out of place. The streets were packed with people, as customary with Tokyo, but with his current attire Kaneki felt so… adult. He supposed with all the things he'd been through, dressing in a suit and walking to work shouldn't be the disorienting experience that jarred him into the revelation that he was no longer a child.

It was a little annoying.

He didn't know what to expect, honestly, with this first day on the job thing. Nobody had really debriefed him on what the hell his job was going to be until he could get into the field. He supposed he should be grateful. He didn't have to worry about hunting his friends just yet.

"Amon." Kaneki spoke tentatively, having walked up behind the man and unsure as to how to get his attention. Amon jumped and whirled around.

"Oh, Kaneki!" His eyes were wide and astonished. "You snuck up on me. Wow, you're really quiet."

"Sorry," he said guiltily, giving a nervous laugh.  _Am I really that quiet_ , he wondered vacantly.

"No, it's fine." Amon didn't seem offended or anything, which was good. Kaneki still wasn't sure what to make of him. He seemed like a really nice man, someone with good intentions and a strong sense of morality. Kaneki hoped he was as open minded as he'd insinuated upon their past meetings.

Because right now, Kaneki really needed a friend in the CCG.

"Everything fits okay, right?" Amon inspected Kaneki's shoulder, pinching the fabric of the suit. "This seam is really worn. Sorry. We'll get you a newer suit after your first pay check."

"Oh, okay. Thank you."

Amon watched him. It wasn't a wary stare, or anything really unusual, but it put Kaneki in a weird position where he had to meet the man's gaze. Was he looking for approval? Kaneki didn't know. He couldn't get a read on this guy. He was just too… genuine. It was confusing.

"I know this is probably strange for you," Amon said. "We don't usually do things like this. Most people have to go through the academy before they can reach the point you're starting at."

"What point am I starting at?" Kaneki asked, ignoring the biting question that popped into his head,  _Why is there a dove academy?_

"Rank 3 Field Investigator, Kaneki Ken." Amon flashed him a card, which Kaneki ignored at first, because he didn't really want to trouble himself with reading a flimsy bit of plastic. But then he realized the card had his face on it.

"Wait, what?" Kaneki took the card, flipping it over in his hands anxiously. Had he authorized this? He glanced at the picture, and he realized he  _had_ gone to get his picture taken earlier in the week. It hadn't occurred to him to ask what for. He'd just been going through the motions. Doing what he was told.

"Rank 3 is pretty much the standard start," Amon admitted, "but honestly, most people do have to go through a process before they can start working. You skipped that step. Congratulations, Kaneki. You're a ghoul investigator."

"Yay," he said faintly, tearing his eyes from the ID. He clutched it tightly, his arms falling to his side so he didn't have to have it so close to his face. The little flimsy scrap of plastic bit into his bloodless fingers. White knuckles hid it from view. He took a deep breath.

Amon was quiet, and Kaneki jerked himself out of the anxious stupor he'd fallen into, smiling big at Amon.

"I mean," he gasped, "thank you very much!"

"It's okay," Amon told him very gently. "It's only natural that you're nervous. You weren't given much of a say in any of this."

"No, it's fine," Kaneki said, stuffing the ID into his pocket. "I'll get used to it."  _Probably_.

Amon didn't look so sure. He frowned at Kaneki, looking momentarily puzzled. Then he perked up. "Hey," he said, clapping Kaneki on the shoulder. "Let me show you around."

"Okay…" It wasn't like Kaneki had anything better to do.

He ended up being introduced to numerous investigators. Amon explained between introductions that most of these people were simply Bureau Investigators, which meant they did very, very little field work. This was the case with most CCG offices, except for the main headquarters, which was brimming with field investigators. That was where Kaneki had gone to meet with Shinohara.

Kusaba Ippei and Nakajima Yasunori, two bureau investigators who Amon had pulled Kaneki aside to introduce, seemed to be the most interested in Kaneki's inherent ghoulishness.

"So you're not really dangerous right?" Ippei asked flippantly, blinking at Kaneki from behind his thick, round glasses. "I mean, you wouldn't be here if you were."

"I don't think I'm dangerous," Kaneki said.

Maybe that wasn't a hundred percent true, but for now a little lie wouldn't hurt to get him in good graces.

"That's good," Ippei sighed in relief. "Honestly, we were all kinda worried. With what the CCG was thinking, authorizing a ghoul and all, but… you're not  _really_  a ghoul, right?"

Kaneki averted his eyes, feeling that he needed to take a moment to think over his reply. He probably had to be careful with how he responded, because making a good impression was vital here, but he just couldn't think of a good way to respond that was reasonable but truthful.

"Kaneki," Amon said, not really in any warning sense, but in a careful, inquisitive way. He was not asking if Kaneki was okay, not really, but the statement did imply he was worried.

"No," Kaneki finally said, looking into Ippei's eyes. "I really am a ghoul."

The man looked surprised, and his partner steadied him when he took a step back on reflex.

"He's an anomaly," Amon said quickly, shooting Kaneki a sharp glance. It seemed to be the first time since they'd first met that Amon was irritated with Kaneki's behavior. "He may have the abilities of a ghoul, but I expect everyone here to treat him with the respect and trust due to any other coworker. Is that clear?"

Kaneki stood very still, eyes enlarged and jaw clenched tightly shut. He was too alarmed to really say anything in response, and he didn't think he needed to. Both men nodded quickly, looking just as shocked as Kaneki was.

"Sorry," Ippei said sheepishly. "I didn't mean anything by it…"

"Ken!"

Kaneki flinched. He knew that voice, and he knew that awful tone, and he knew this dull atmosphere of silent judgment would only get more intense from here on.

"Mr. Mado." He gave a somewhat indifferent half-bow, wondering how strained his voice sounded. How annoyed he appeared.

"I just got an interesting word from HQ," he said with his great, wormy smirk firmly in place. "Come on, boy, let's walk."

"Um—!" Kaneki shot a frantic look at Amon, who merely nodded to him, as though that might alleviate Kaneki's discomfort. There was no help coming, not from Amon, not from anyone, so he reluctantly began to follow Mado down the hallway.

"You seem glum." Mado walked at a brisk pace, which caused Kaneki to wonder if maybe he'd misjudged the man's age based on his appearance. "Isn't this what you wanted, Ken?"

"Yes, sir," Kaneki said. He didn't know if that was true or not, but he knew it didn't matter, because it was what needed to be said. It was what had to be said.

"Then relax." Mado clapped him on the back. Kaneki jumped. "I won't hurt you. I know you're a little… eh…" Mado gave a little hand gesture, letting his hand wobble on his wrist as if to say,  _so-so_. "You know, because of what I did at your university, but honestly I was just curious."

"You knew I couldn't eat anything," Kaneki murmured.

"Yes, I did." Mado smiled at him. How poisonous his smiles seemed to be. They made Kaneki's skin crawl. "The question was, of course, whether your friend knew."

Kaneki paused mid-step, and he shot a horrified glance at the back of Mado's head. "You… did that to test Hide?"

"I simply wanted to know how loyal he was." Mado waved offhandedly, his gloved fingers curling against the air. "Loyalty is so hard to come by these days."

"Hide has nothing to do with anything," Kaneki gasped, pushing forward and skidding to a stop before Mado, his eyes glazed with fury. "Don't ever use him like that again!"

Mado looked at him with raised eyebrows, his smirk dissipating as he squinted up at Kaneki. He turned his head curiously, studying Kaneki's face with a distant kind of scrutiny.

"It was a harmless experiment, Ken," Mado said.

"I don't care," he replied. "Hide has enough to worry about. If he wanted to take part in one of your "experiments" he'd join the CCG himself!" Kaneki took a deep breath, and he felt dizzy. And hungry. His stomach gave a pang, and he was filled with overwhelming distress over that fact.

"Huh." Mado folded his arms across his chest. "Are you hungry, Ken?"

"What?" Kaneki took a very large step back. He didn't understand. How could he know? Could he just sense these things? How inhuman was this man? "No, I—"

Mado tapped two fingers beneath one of his eyes. Kaneki watched bemusedly. And then, horrified, he reached up and felt the protruding red veins that crawled beneath his lower eyelid and across his cheekbone. He let out a small, shaky breath of absolute terror, and he clamped his hand over his eye.

"No," he murmured, his fingernails clawing into the sensitive skin of his eyelid, "no, no, no, no, no…"

"I wonder," Mado said distantly, "if you truly are different from them after all?"

Kaneki backed up into a wall, covering his kakugan with both hands. His fingers were trembling. Because he was scared. He needed to at least  _appear_  human to these people, and he… he'd thought he had this under control. It wasn't fair!

"You're awfully pathetic," Mado drawled.

Kaneki lowered his head. He hunched against the wall, wishing dearly that he could have the will to make everything go away, but he knew that he was too weak for such things, and it killed him inside.

He didn't know what to do. His dizziness had not subsided, and there was a nagging, gnawing little voice pressuring his brain. It sang to him in the song of whispers.  _Time to eat, eat, eat, eat_ , it hummed,  _time for meat, meat, meat_. His stomach began to cramp, and though he knew this would subside for at least a bit of time, he felt absolutely overcome by the sense of desolation these pains put him in.

"Mr. Mado…" He sank to the floor, his back sliding down the wall and his eyes digging into his knees. "You… you should get away from me…"

"Oh?" Mado's voice was unreadable amongst the commotion inside Kaneki's head. "Do you think I'm scared of you, Ken?"

"I don't know…" Kaneki took a deep breath. "I'm sorry… I don't know what I've done… I shouldn't have come here… I shouldn't have…"  _They're going to kill me_ , he thought fearfully.

Of course he could easily fight his way out of here. It would be simple. But that would erase everything he'd worked for so far. And he didn't want to hurt anyone. He really, really didn't want to hurt anyone!

"Mado…?"

Kaneki's head shot up. He turned his head sharply toward the source of the voice. Amon walked very slowly toward them, his eyes on Kaneki's face. He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening, and he was likely very shocked to see Kaneki's kakugan.

"One eye…" Amon exhaled.

"Please… both of you, please, stay away from me…" Of course he could easily fight his way out. But he didn't want to. He was strong, certainly, but only in his head. He didn't know what this body could do, if he could push it like he had before. He didn't know if he could do anything worth anything. He was scared. He was so scared…

Kaneki heard Mado's brisk footfalls, his heels clipping the white tile, and when Kaneki looked up he saw the mad man dangling a small black phial in front of Kaneki's face.

"Mado, what are you doing?" Amon gasped, marching up to them. "Didn't you hear him?"

"I suppose I'm a little hard of hearing in my old age," Mado quipped. Kaneki stared at the smooth, lackluster black glass, and he wondered what was inside.

The fact that he was wondering anything made it clear that the situation wasn't as dire as he was making it out to be.

He was just  _scared_.

Scared of what they might do to him.

To everyone he knew and cared about…

"Well, Ken?" Mado whistled low, waving the phial in Kaneki's face. "Take it or leave it, but let me tell you something. If you don't drink this, I will have to do something I maybe don't want to do to you, and it might not be the most pleasant thing. So why don't you just drink up?"

"What… is it…?" Kaneki reached for the phial with twitching fingers, one arm wrapped around his cramping stomach.

"Does that matter?" Mado's eyes were glittering. "It's for you. So these things won't happen." Kaneki continued to reach for the phial, his vision growing cloudy. "If I told you it was human blood, would it matter?"

Kaneki stopped. Uncertainly, he withdrew his hand.

Mado's eyes flashed wide momentarily.

"You should both get away from me," Kaneki said faintly. "Please… I really… really don't want to hurt you…"

Amon took Mado's arm, but Mado shrugged him off rather sharply. He knelt down, which caused Kaneki to drag his legs closer to his chest. He breathed in through his mouth, and hoped this would fade, this helplessness that reminded him of when he'd first become a ghoul.

 _That's because I just became a ghoul_ , he remembered suddenly _. I literally just became a ghoul, of course this body isn't used to hunger pains. Even if, mentally, I'm totally an expert at dealing with constantly being on the brink of starvation, this body is still coping with the changes_.

Wow. Being in his younger, squishier body was fucking tedious.

"Listen, Ken," Mado said, reaching out and snatching Kaneki by the wrist. Everything in him was instinctually reeling back. "I don't really know what's in this. I don't have the authority to ask, so whatever it is, you're not allowed to know. But I was told that if you showed any signs of hunger, I was to give you this." Mado dropped the phial into Kaneki's trembling hand. "Get up. You are my subordinate, and I won't have you having breakdowns every time your more unsavory traits reveal themselves."

He stood, patting Amon on the shoulder as he turned away. Kaneki gripped the phial tightly, unsure of what to do. Carefully, he uncorked the phial, and he sniffed it. It smelled strange. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was a familiar smell. Without any other real, reasonable option, Kaneki took the phial in both hands and tipped it back.

He knew immediately what it was when the thick, acrid liquid hit his tongue. It sloshed in his mouth as he tossed the phial back and downed the whole thing in one gulp, disgusted but also satiated. The aftertaste was like tar clinging to the back of his throat, but as he took a few deep breaths, everything started to realign, and he felt his sweaty forehead, sighing in relief.

"Did… that work?" Amon looked surprised as his eyes darted between Kaneki and Mado.

Kaneki touched the skin beneath his eye. The veins had disappeared, which he was thankful for. He didn't know if his kakugan had vanished or not, but he was grateful regardless. He stood up shakily, clutching the phial in both hands.

"I… I think it did," he said, blinking rapidly. He took another deep breath. His eyes fell on Mado's back. "Mr. Mado… thank you, I…" He swallowed thickly, and when Mado turned his head to look over his shoulder, Kaneki lowered his upper body into a deep bow. "Thank you."

 _I just showed them how weak I can be_ , he thought frantically.  _I need to show them that I'm strong too_.

"Fufu…" It was a chuckling sound mixed with quick puffs of exhaling air. He turned about, beaming at Kaneki with his usual awful expression. "Well, if you're thanking me, you might as well do me a favor. Amon and I are doing some ghoul investigating. You know, our jobs. You need to have at least a taste of what you're getting into before you get into the real nitty gritty things, so why don't you come along?"

"Mado," Amon gasped, his eyes darting to Kaneki's face. "Are you sure that's a good idea? He's completely untrained."

"So?" Mado shrugged. "The best way to learn is through experience. What do you say, Ken?"

Kaneki didn't know what to fucking say. The man hadn't given him time to even think, really. Kaneki was still reeling from the fading cramps that had captured his abdomen so abruptly, and now this guy just wanted him to go out and watch him hunt for ghouls? Honestly?

"Fine," he said, brushing the hair from his forehead to wipe the residual sweat away. "Fine, sure. Whatever."

"Good!" Mado clapped his hands together. Kaneki could only watch, exhausted and bemused, as he was led on a witch hunt of his own doing.

On their way, Kaneki found himself thinking back to when Mado had pulled him away from Amon. They were walking at a quick pace, the three of them, Mado and Amon making steady conversation while Kaneki checked his reflection in the gleaming glass windows of tall buildings to make sure his kakugan had properly concealed itself. He thumbed the sensitive skin beneath his eye, and he glanced at Mado's back.

"Excuse me," he said, quickening his pace so he was right beside the man. "But didn't you want to tell me something?"

"Hm?" Mado tilted his head. "Did I?"

"Yes," Kaneki said firmly, not meeting Amon's intense gaze. "You said that the… HQ, or something, had a, um… "interesting word" was the phrase you used."

"Oh!" Mado chuckled. "Yes, yes, that. Well, Amon and I were sent to the twentieth ward to do away with the Binge Eater ghoul."

"Binge Eater…" Kaneki repeated softly. People bustled past, and he recalled the sensation of intense hunger, mad hunger, even worse than the episode he'd had that afternoon. Meat, meat, meat, meat, meat, meat, meat. Humans? No. Meat. That was how it had been the first time around. This time it had to be different. He had to be good. He had to drink that concoction of the CCG's, and he had to put on a good human face so he wasn't butchered on the spot.

"Binge Eater is a particularly nasty ghoul that surfaced in this ward a few months ago," Amon explained hastily. "We were sent to track it and eliminate it."

"But that is no longer necessary!" Mado smiled brightly, as though beaming at the sunshine just for being bright. "The Binge Eater is now deceased. Thanks to you."

"Me?" Kaneki didn't need to ask. He knew the Binge Eater was Rize, but he didn't like the implications of Mado's word choice. He talked as if Kaneki had meant to go on a date with a highly dangerous ghoul.

"Kamishiro Rize was, by our assessment, the Binge Eater," Mado said. "Considering there have been no recent attacks since the night you were hospitalized, and given your own body type in comparison to the previous victims, we can conclude that the Binge Eater was killed in the same accident that prompted your… interesting predicament."

"Oh. Wow." Kaneki tried to sound more enthused, but his voice was simply flat and dull. "Yeah, you're welcome, I guess. I totally meant to almost get eaten." Kaneki glowered down at his feet. "It was all part of my master plan."

He expected to be rebuked or something of that nature, but instead Mado laughed and clapped Kaneki on the back.

"That's good," he said. "Not many people in this business keep their sense of humor. Of course you joking about being a ghoul  _probably_  won't win you any friends."

"I think it's worth a try," Amon said, glancing at Kaneki and smiling. "It would make him seem more approachable and human."

"Ah, that reminds me." Mado gripped Kaneki's shoulder tightly, his spindly fingers digging into the worn suit coat seam. "What happened today cannot happen again. You're excused for this one time, because of course I was teasing you by keeping your prescribed nourishment away, but it will not be so simple next time. When you are hungry, you immediately tell me so I can give you what you need. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Kaneki murmured.

"It's merely a precaution," Mado informed them in his usual blithe tone. "Otherwise my orders are to terminate on sight."

Kaneki's eyes widened momentarily, but he managed a brief, "Okay." Before his throat closed up in terror. Because he was in really, really deep. He needed to remember that his choices had consequences. Last time… last time he hadn't really considered any of the consequences of his own actions. This time he had to think.

"That was a joke," Amon said firmly, shooting Mado a strange look. Mado merely smiled.

"What?" Kaneki asked flatly.

"Oh, come on, Amon, don't ruin the fun!"

"No, seriously," Amon sighed. "We have no permission to kill you. The order I was given was to apprehend you if necessary, but not to physically harm you."

"Is that for real?" Kaneki's eyes widened. Mado's face had fallen into a sullen expression, as though Amon's words did not please him in the least.  _He wants to kill me_ , Kaneki realized.  _Even if he's acting friendly, he'd like nothing more than to cut me down and rip me open_. "I think I believe Mr. Mado more."

"It shouldn't matter to you who is right in this case, Ken," Mado murmured, a smile stretching tightly on his thin lips. "Your main goal is to never find out what happens if you go rogue."

"Noted." Kaneki paused as they walked past a large metal plaque bolted into a slab of granite. His insides seemed to freeze, and his mind whirred on rewind. Something in him was screaming all of a sudden, furious and terrified, and he wondered if it was that part of him that he'd almost forgotten. Centipede. It skittered and writhed. He heard it clicking its pincers in his ear.

Nobody had ever told him centipedes were venomous.

"Hey," he said in a low, dead voice. Amon turned to look back at him, but Mado merely continued his leisurely stroll, his briefcase bobbing at his side. " _Hey_!"

"You sound distressed, Ken." Mado did not turn around, nor did he even stop walking. Kaneki exhaled a shaky, vicious breath.

"Why are we at Kamii?" he asked in a voice that made him feel like this poor, squishy body had been plated with steel.

"We have business here." Mado never stopped. He didn't know how to fucking stop. That was why he'd died in the first place! He just kept going, going, going, and that was his downfall, his determination to see ghouls fall into abysmal misery. If he just… slowed down… took a moment to think, to see some clarity… if he'd just stopped…

 _You're going to die the same way this time around_ , Kaneki thought coldly at the man's back.  _Mark my words, Mado. You'll never be safe so long as you keep hunting ghouls for sport. Stealing kagune like hunters steel antlers_.

Kaneki started forward. He began to quicken his pace to a brisk stride, his eyes sharp and cold as he glanced around the campus, studying the faces of his old peers, thinking that he would have been better off never going to the CCG. Everyone would have been better off. How could he be so foolish?

Make a choice and face the consequences. That was how this new world was.

Kaneki waited outside when Mado went into a building for a reason he did not deem necessary to disclose with the rest of the team. He was counting the students outside class, students lounging at lawn tables, students studying in clumps on the warm stone pathways, students sleeping in patches of shaded areas with textbooks smothered over their faces. Kaneki felt within his element with these people. Or maybe, the old part of him did.

Often times, back in the future, he'd thought himself a completely different person from the boy Rize had lured in. But that wasn't true at all.

He just wished he were different.

He wished and wished and wished that he could be the stronger one for once. That he could be the one to make a difference. To save instead of be saved.

It never worked.

Why did he ever bother pretending?

He was scared all the time, and no one seemed to hear him screaming.

Mado returned with his slimy smile right in place. It was worse now. Kaneki was beginning to notice that Mado had certain degrees of malicious smiles. Some of them were soft and teasing, almost… kind, if that were possible for such an atrocious man. Some were clearly cruel, but only to be mean in a curious, scientific way.

And then there were these smiles.

These wide, wormy little smirks. They were fucking predatory.

"Our suspect is a student?" Amon asked.

"Oh yes." Mado's fist was tight around the handle of his briefcase. "He's coming in a moment."

"You… called him?" Kaneki didn't understand how this investigating stuff actually worked. He'd just assumed the CCG got tips about suspected ghouls and attacked them in alleys or something.

"I made it clear that I needed to speak with him as a matter of importance so he'd be excused from class," Mado explained. "When you start doing this, you need to be quick with your words. Know how to get people into corners."

"That sounds sketchy," Kaneki told him curtly.

Mado beamed at him. "That's life!"

Kaneki wanted to throttle him. He thought about Hinami, her terrified face, round and wet and splotchy from tears. He could almost hear her uneven breaths as he twisted her away from the gruesome execution her mother had endured. Almost feel the warmth of her tiny hand as it clenched his bones until they threatened to snap.

His throat was closing up, and he turned away from Mado sharply.

The sounds of people murmuring, feet scraping against hot pavement, wind whistling through leave, it all filled him up and washed him out. He didn't need this right now. He didn't need to be sick on memories, sick on old times, old time blues, which made him ache in the head and in the heart, close-throated and jittery words about how time flies, time flies, time flies.

And then it rewinds and fucks you up even worse than you were before, which, frankly should  _not even be fucking possible_.

He raised his head when he heard the door of the building open. He swallowed a furious, disorienting scream.

Nishio Nishiki closed a fist around the strap of his bag that hung loosely at his shoulder. He cocked his head at them.

"You the guy who called me down?" he asked in a bored tone.

"Nishio Nishiki," Mado said, smiling his awful, malicious smirk right at Nishiki's face, like that wouldn't tip him off that he was about to get his life ripped apart. He held up a badge with a goddamn dove on it. "I'm investigator Mado Kureo of the CCG."

"That ghoul thing?"

"That's the one."

"Okay…?" Nishiki's eyes flicked to Kaneki's face. They narrowed. In absolute fucking fury.

 _Great_ , Kaneki thought. He couldn't even breathe, he was so disgusted. He'd done this. He'd ruined his friend's life.  _Again_!

"We won't bother you for long," Amon said politely. "We just need you to agree to an RC test."

Nishiki's jaw tightened. He looked away, ruffling the back of his sleek, wavy hair, and he sighed. "Sure," he said dully. "Whatever, I guess."

"Marvelous!" Mado's voice was piercing. Kaneki reached up and blocked his ears. He supposed it wasn't unusual for him to be screaming, screaming, screaming, and no one actually heard him. It was all in his head. The scream was ripping up his lungs because he was holding it down with everything he had.

Suddenly they were moving, and Kaneki struggled to catch up, lowering his hands from his ears and nearly crashing into Amon. Nishiki was leading them away from the halls with classrooms in it, toward the dorms. Kaneki watched Nishiki's back, and he bit his lip. He had to figure out a way to help Nishiki escape without tipping off Amon or Mado.

"What is an RC test, anyway?" Nishiki asked conversationally. They were outside the campus now. Kaneki's pocket vibrated, but he ignored it, his fingernails digging into his palm as he continued to brainstorm.

"Just a quick check to tell if a person is a ghoul or not," Amon told him. "It won't cost you anything, and once it's done we'll all feel a lot better about the situation."

"How does it work?" Nishiki was leading them down a sidewalk, his chin tipped up toward the sky.

"We'll extract some blood samples from you. It won't hurt, and it'll be over quickly." Amon didn't seem concerned that Nishiki was now leading them down a serpentine alleyway.

"You can tell that stuff from blood?"

"Modern technology is a wonderful asset to catching ghouls." Amon didn't smile. Kaneki stopped. Nishiki wasn't even trying.

He'd just done his best to lead them all away from t he school.

His pocket buzzed again. Kaneki thought to ignore it, but then it buzzed again, and of course it was Hide. So he pulled the phone out to check Hide's text messages as quickly as he could.

_Bro just saw you and the other ccg guys?_

_People are talking it's not good at all they think nishio is a ghoul_

_Please be careful :o_

Kaneki closed his eyes and pocketed the phone. It wasn't Kaneki that Hide needed to worry about. Nishiki was doomed if he didn't think of something fast.

"Nishiki," Mado called excitedly. "Your apartment is on a street opposite from here, isn't it?"

Nishiki froze.

 _God damn it_ , Kaneki thought, taking a step back and readying himself.

Nishiki's shoulders rose and fell.

"Fuck you, old man," he snarled, whirling around as his kagune unfurled, bright blue and glistening even in the wavering shadows of the old alley pass. His eyes were dark and flashing with the crimson light of his kakugan, veins pulsing beneath his skin and rising like red cracks beneath the frames of his glasses.

Mado merely laughed, jumping out of the way of Nishiki's attack and raising his briefcase. Nishiki bounced off the wall, moving at a swift angle and moving his legs so he could drop kick Mado in the face. The man merely lifted the briefcase, stumbling a bit at the force it took to deflect the attack. Kaneki watched with wide eyes as Nishiki's kagune came bearing down on Mado, a quick blur of a bluish arc swiping toward Mado's head.

And Mado grinned. He flicked his wrist, and the briefcase came snapping open, the click pinching inside Kaneki's ears like clicking pincers, and a long, jerky spine clapped against Nishiki's tail, sending a shockwave of noise through the alleyway. It was like listening to someone beating at a leather drum with the bulb-like end of a femur.

Nishiki fell back, skidding across the alley floor and knocking over a garbage can as he went. His teeth were bared, and his eyes were flashing around him. He wanted to figure a way out without actually confronting the investigators. His intention had probably been to jump them as soon as they were deep enough in the alley, which was a dead end, now that Kaneki had a good grasp on his surroundings. He could see a wall peeking around the next corner. He was gonna jump that wall and escape.

But Mado was too fucking smart.

And too fucking fast.

The quinque Mado had was something Kaneki recognized. He hated it. His stomach turned in disgust.

It was already too late to save Hinami's father. But… Hinami and her mother were likely okay. That was good. That was great to know.

Nishiki dodged the next strike that Mado prepared for him, sliding across the ground and rolling so his kagune whipped out, nearly tearing Amon's kneecaps off. The man jumped at the right time however, and he prepared his own briefcase, flicking it open and grasping his mighty, axe-like quinque.

"Kaneki, stay back!" Amon barked, his feet moving quickly, one two three, one two three, like a one man waltz. He knew how to read where a battle was going. He was steadfast, sturdy, stubborn. He could hold his ground against Nishiki easily while Mado cut him down.

This was really bad.

 _I need to get in on this fight,_  he thought wildly, watching Nishiki flip back, struck in the upper thigh by the clicking spinal quinque that twisted and whipped, too flexible and too sharp and too hard. It was a minor graze, but blood began to bubble up and redden his jeans. It hadn't even slowed him down. Nishiki kicked up a trash can and punted it at Mado, twisting his body away and diving at Amon while the man's head was turned, his eyes quick and worried for Mado's safety when they should have been front, watching the target.

The kagune was curled like a hook, and its point was dipping toward Amon's throat.

Kaneki pushed off the ground and jumped onto Amon's back, his arms dangling from the man's neck like a child pleading for a piggyback ride, and he crawled. His limbs weren't quite as nimble as they were once, but they were quick enough, and he'd swung his body, hooking one knee beneath Amon's arm as he shielded the man's face with his chest and let his kagune creep out, smashing into Nishiki's. The scaly little arms had thickened and hardened like a shell around Kaneki's back. He felt the overwhelming pressure, the biting sensation of someone else's tail pushing the points of the nerves inside his kagune.

He pushed off Amon, which caused the man to topple over onto the ground, and he whirled in midair, catching Nishiki's wild eyes. He was eying Kaneki's kagune with such pure awe and disgust, it seemed to roll off him in waves. It had dissolved all the terror in him.

"What the fuck is this?" Nishiki spat, gesturing to Kaneki with a sharp, revolted sneer.

Kaneki hunched defensively, sidestepping so he was properly between Nishiki and Amon. Frankly, Kaneki was fine with Nishiki killing Mado. He wished it would happen, honestly, it would save him a lot of grief in the long run. But Mado was simply better, so Kaneki doubted he'd get the pleasure of seeing that happen.

"Oh, fuck, this is just _rich_!" Nishiki raised his arms in mock appraisal. "The doves have a pet ghoul! That's fucking fantastic!"

"Nishiki," Kaneki said very carefully. The word  _senpai_  had to be swallowed down. He was sad. And he was scared. "Please stop fighting. If you don't fight back, they might let you live."

"Do you actually believe that crap?" Nishiki's face was twisted in his absolute and total fucking disgust. He was livid and repulsed, possibly just by Kaneki's existence. This was familiar. "Maybe that worked for little guard dogs like you for a minute, but they're gonna put you down before you can even think twice about regretting it!"

"I don't want to fight you," Kaneki said faintly.

"Then fucking die!" Nishiki lunged, and Kaneki was about to dodge, but he saw Mado's quinque reeling toward Nishiki. So he let his old friend tackle him to the ground, his kagune flashing. Kaneki listened to the quinque snap overhead, and he twisted to avoid getting pierced by Nishiki's bikaku. His own kagune slithered out from beneath him, and two limbs wrapped around Nishiki's arms like snakes coiling around their prey.

"Kaneki, that's enough!" Amon gasped. "Get away from him!"

"Master's calling, stupid pup," Nishiki taunted, stomping on Kaneki's stomach. It knocked the wind out of him, leaving no sounds or breaths or thoughts, only the instinct that had been instilled upon him by the whispery clicking of a centipede writhing inside his ear canal, pincers ripping through his ear drum and burrowing into his middle ear, twitching little limbs dancing upon the eusta tube as the beast tore into his inner ear.

Blood dripped onto Kaneki's face. He watched Nishiki's side bloom red beneath the claw of his third kagune arm. He hated himself dearly, but he couldn't contact that hatred really, not really, not really right now when this was all unfolding.

He let the warm blood pour like heavy raindrops upon his cheeks.

The wound was gaping.

 _Oh_ , Kaneki thought.

His eyes widened.

"That's it," he whispered to himself. He wrenched his kagune out of Nishiki's side as he gave a shivery gasp, gulping at air with pained desperation. Kaneki dragged himself and Nishiki upright, and he watched Nishiki's eyes flash dangerously.  _That's it_ , he thought,  _come on. That was nothing, Nishio. Nothing compared to what you can handle. So come on_!

Kaneki threw them both against the wall to dodge a swipe from Mado's quinque. Nishiki yanked his arms free of Kaneki's kagune while Amon shouted, picking up his quinque and jerking a finger at Mado.

"Hold you're attack! You almost just hit Kaneki!"

"Does that matter?" Mado's voice rumbled. It was the distant threat of a storm, thunder sounding the increasing risk of danger. While Kaneki listened to the exchange, Nishiki backhanded him.

"Sounds like they don't care that much about what happens to you, dog," Nishiki spat, his kagune curling behind his shoulder.

"Oh, just shut up," Kaneki grumbled, grabbing Nishiki by the shoulder and kicking off the wall, his leg sailing over Nishiki's head.

"Mado, you can't disobey orders! Do not hurt Kaneki!"

"Do you see this?" Mado sounded irritated. "This is not a precious little child, Amon, regardless of how you may feel! Our job is to exterminate ghouls, and right now I see two ghouls ripe for the killing!"

Kaneki dodged a quick jab from the brightly hued kagune, blinking at the squirmy bikaku and kicking off it, spinning in midair to catch the shingles of a slanted roof. He flipped himself onto it, bending into a crouch and glowering at Nishiki _. Come and get me_ , his haughty gaze goaded.

Nishiki loved to pick fights.

"Normally I trust your instincts implicitly, but  _now is not the time_!" Amon caught Kaneki's eye. Kaneki watched him sadly. He didn't know how this would turn out.

 _Tell me how purgatory ends_ , he begged the man, as though he could hear Kaneki's thoughts somehow.

Nishiki jumped onto the roof, the veined blue kagune catching the sunlight and sending silvery, bioluminescent light shattering amongst the dusty shingles. Kaneki rolled out of its path as it tore shingle after shingle after shingle up and into the air, blood splashing from Nishiki's open side and staining his blue jeans black as he ducked and jutted his leg out. Kaneki crossed his arms into a block before his face, grunting as the blow hit him, and he balanced on the edge of the roof, batting off the kagune strikes with the clicking, pinching red arms that coiled around him.

"You risked your life to save that goddamn dove," Nishiki spat as his fist breezed past Kaneki's ear. "What the fuck is with you? Trash like you waste space and encroach on perfectly good territory."

"I'm really sorry, Nishiki," Kaneki sighed. He slid back, falling flat against the slope of the roof as the bluish blur sailed dangerously close to his nose. He kicked himself up again and grabbed Nishiki by the front of his shirt. He'd been calculating their steps. They'd inched their way to the end of the alley.

"Sorry?" Nishiki's eyes were huge, blackened sclera wet with what Kaneki assumed were despairing tears. "Yeah, okay, I'll give you sorry—!"

Kaneki watched his kagune come swiftly from the side, and he knew that Amon and Mado would be watching, so he jerked both himself and Nishiki in the opposite direction. Which luckily for Kaneki, was right off the roof.

They tumbled over the wall separating the alleys, spinning in midair, and Kaneki couldn't so much as cry out as his back collided with the ground, pain dicing up his spine and sending tears springing into his eyes. Nishiki was no better. He'd been pierced by one of the twisting little arms of Kaneki's kagune again, this time in the shoulder. He struggled to get himself in a position that even resembled upright. He was probably beginning to feel the slice in his thigh.

Kaneki sprung up, breathless and teary eyed, and he pinned Nishiki to the ground.

"You fucker…" Nishiki's breath rattled, and he glared into Kaneki's face, his glasses slightly askew. Kaneki stared at him.

"Okay," Kaneki whispered, warily slipping off Nishiki. "Okay, you need to listen to me very carefully."

Nishiki's eyes widened. Kaneki helped him sit upright, and he winced, hugging his stomach and shooting a fierce glower at Kaneki's face.

"I know you don't trust me," he murmured, shrugging off his suit coat and pressing it gingerly to Nishiki's shoulder wound. It would've been ruined either way, and Nishiki couldn't leave a blood trail. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you get the fuck out of here."

"Are you kidding?" Nishiki's eyes darted across Kaneki's face. His kakugan made him look so terribly frightening, but Kaneki knew better.

Kaneki began to speak rapidly, leaning close to Nishiki so he wouldn't be overheard. He didn't know where Mado and Amon were, but he didn't hear them on the other side of the wall, so they could be anywhere.

"There's a coffee shop called Anteiku a few blocks from here. Take the back alleyways to the back entrance, and  _don't_ get spotted. If anything happens to that place, I'll kill you myself." He looked into Nishiki's eyes. And then he smiled sheepishly. "Tell Yoshimura I sent you. They should be able to hide you until you heal."

"Is this a joke?" Nishiki whispered, his brow furrowing. "You… you did this to me. You turned me in!"

"Shh!" Kaneki clamped his hand over Nishiki's mouth. He stared levelly into the man's eyes, and he exhaled sharply. "I didn't. I swear, I didn't, it was Mado, he… he has this weird instinct. He just  _knows_." He shivered, looking down into his lap. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything more for you but buy you some time."

"Time?" Nishiki looked at him warily as Kaneki lifted his hand.

"I want you to stab me," Kaneki whispered, raising his eyes to meet Nishiki's gaze, "right in the gut."

"Are you crazy?"

"I'll heal," he whispered fiercely, "and I think I'm important to them, for the time being, so they won't let me die just yet. It'll give you time to escape."

Nishiki's mouth fell open. His kakugan dissipated, and he seemed to relax a little as he nodded. Slowly at first, and then furiously.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay, but… shit. Why are you helping them?"

Kaneki had to hold back a laugh. He took Nishiki by the shoulders, and he smiled. "To help people like you," he said.

"You're crazy," Nishiki muttered. "A crazy, one-eyed fool. That's what you are."

"Guilty." Kaneki braced himself. "Okay, do it."

Nishiki glanced at him. He took a deep breath, and Kaneki saw the brilliant blue gleam of his kagune.

The breath was stolen from him. He couldn't think or breathe. All he knew was the pain, the familiar kiss of pain that trailed from his stomach to his ribs and up into his throat as he coughed blood into Nishiki's face. He collided with the warm pavement, unable to stop himself from curling up in agony. Nishiki'd really done a nice number on Kaneki, to the point where it was less of a stab and more of impalement. Kaneki felt his arms and legs go lax as he listened to the beating of his own heart match the beating of Nishiki's sneakers against the ground. It all melted into the clicking of pincers, the winding, writhing screeching of his own breathy screams.

He was half unconscious, sleeping off the wound, when he heard a heavy, frantic voice. His eyelids were heavy as he tried to part them, blinking into the bleary white afternoon and coughing. His mouth was filled with more blood than saliva, and he felt it dribbling down his chin as he moved his lips dazedly.

"Kaneki…" His name swam in the front of his brain, and he groaned. He just wanted to sleep. "Kaneki! Hang on, okay?"

It was a low voice. It confused him, hearing a low voice.

He began to realize, through his swimming vision, that he was being cradled.

"What…?" he rasped, his head lolling. He found himself behind scooped up into the air, and his eyes widened.

"You saved my life," Amon said, marching past the distinctly sullen Mado Kureo. "I won't ever forget that, Kaneki."

He squinted at the man's face. "Okay," he mumbled. "Thanks… for defending me. Thank you…" He let out a contented sigh. "Thank you…"

He fell asleep, and let himself dream. Of a happier past, and a family that did not quite know him yet. Of the days spent with Banjou and Hinami and Tsukiyama, constantly teetering on the edge of a severe mental break. And of a field of spider lilies that stretched out toward the sky, a thousand corpses littering the ground, and at the middle of it all was the partial remains of a smiling friend.

Hide's half rotted face turned to grin at him.

"Welcome back, Kaneki."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fustitudinus, fustitudina, fustitudinum [adj].  
> whip-happy.


	6. schoenobatae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little thing to note in hindsight, since i write these chapters ahead of time. i was under the impression that touka lived at anteiku (because of the anime, maybe?? idk), but as i was rereading the manga i realized. no. no she does not live at anteiku. but i'd already written this chapter. and other chapters. a lot of my planning process revolved around the fact that i assumed touka lived at anteiku.
> 
> so guess what? now she lives at anteiku. ENJOY. 
> 
> (p.s. thank you all so much for the reception you've given me on this fic, it means so much! i know i don't reply often because i don't really know what to say, so usually i'll only reply if you ask questions or something. anyway, yeah, thank you!! btw if anyone wants to fight me you can find me on tumblr @ [asexualsuzuya](http://www.olivesilverlock.co.vu). is this a shameless plug? ya but i'm dead serious about coming to fight me.)

The flowers were so vibrant and crimson and terrible, it was hard to look away from them, even though they reeked of decomposing tissue moldering away in sewer water. He thought if he breathed in through his mouth, it would all make sense, but that was too much for him to ask for. His mind did not clear at all. There was something rattling inside his skull.

"Hide…" The flowers were whispering. Choking on words. On blood. They whispered. He held his head, and he trekked forward, feeling his boots crush the spidery limbs of the vibrant crimson flowers, terrible as they were, beautiful as they were, terrible as they were. He felt overwhelmed.

Hide's rotted skin became porous. It stretched thin and gray over the contours of his skull.

"You look rough, dude," he said, gesturing his bloated fingers at the unstitched seam that had burst across the concave marble of Kaneki's belly. Blood was not so much pouring out as it was dribbling and quick rivulets down the slide of his abdomen, lines tracing from his navel down to his pelvis.

"I…" Kaneki fell to his knees, sinking into the warm, wet flowers and feeling bile wash upon his tongue. The smell was growing worse. "Why…? Hide. Why did you…?"

"We do what we have to," Hide whispered. The leathery skin of his decomposed face began to unravel into thin gray vines. Kaneki watched bulbs form upon the thorny stem, looping through Hide's matted blonde hair. "Don't be so glum."

Kaneki held his head. There was something squirming inside it, and he wanted to cut it off, cut off his whole head and let it loll in his trembling, discolored fingers.

"Somebody," he choked, "please… let me out of this hell…"

"What hell?" Hide's face was a patchwork of sickly skin and blooming flowers. He opened his mouth, and his laughter smelled like the rotten aroma the wafted from the spider lilies crushed beneath Kaneki's feet. "This is your life. This is the life you chose. Why? Kaneki, you knew. You knew how foolish it was to live. You knew that your life was just a faulty experiment! Why did you keep fighting?"

"I never wanted this!" he cried, staring into Hide's lone eye. It was cloudy. Gauzy with the sweet fog of death. Kaneki's reflection teetered in the swampy brown glass. His face was slim with malnourishment, his lips cracked and caked with blood, his eyes big and black and hollow, purple bruises sinking into his skull, and his hair was ratty and thin and white as snow.

"I guess not." Hide reached out, his skeleton fingers raking through Kaneki's hair. Kaneki's vision swam with fog. "But this was the lot you drew. You could've chosen to cast yourself off into the ether, but no, you did not, and why not? I don't get it. You hate living."

"Wrong," Kaneki mumbled.

"You hate this struggle, this battle of what if, why not, where is that razor, where is that belt, where did I put those pills, should I, shouldn't I, would it matter, would anyone ever care?" Hide's voice was bright and his foul breath hit Kaneki's face, blooming like the spider lilies crawling across his rotting face. "You live half your life stuck beneath a bell jar, and you'll spend the rest of it squirming beneath a knife. You glorified fucking worm."

"Wrong, wrong, wrong!" Kaneki couldn't even hear what Hide was saying beneath the uncomfortable shuffling inside his ear. He clawed at the skin of his earlobe, sticking his fingers into his ear canal and ripping the writhing centipede out with a pain filled gasp its many legs slicing into the tender skin and splashing blood down the side of his face. "Wrong… wrong… wrong…"

"Now, now, now," Hide laughed, laying a cold hand upon Kaneki's damp forehead. "Let's make amends. Repent, won't you?" Hide plucked the squirming centipede from Kaneki's fingers, holding it up before Kaneki's face. It thrashed and skittered, but it was no match for the death grip it was in. "Do it for me."

"I…" Kaneki's mouth was dry as he watched that awful, writhing monster click its pincers and turn and turn and turn.

"No, don't speak," Hide whispered. "Listen."

Kaneki listened.

The centipede made a revolting squishing noise as was cracked and clenched inside Hide's fist. Its legs twitched feebly, dancing madly as it tried to hang on to maybe a second, a millisecond more of life. It fell into the spider lilies, lying amongst the rest of the dead in its curled up, misshapen way.

"Was that wrong?" Hide asked.

Kaneki wavered. Was that wrong?

What was wrong?

"I don't know," he replied faintly.

"Tell me, then. Tell me what is wrong."

"I don't know!"

"Yes you do. Just say it. You know it. You do. Say it."

"I…" Kaneki stared up into his best friend's terrible, decomposed face, red flowers bursting from uneven, undone skin. Stitched along his cheek, popping out of his eye socket, crowning his forehead. The flowers were everywhere. "I am."

"Again."

"I am," he gasped.

"Again!"

"I am!" His teeth clenched, and suddenly Hide was gone, and his injuries had healed, and his mouth was watering from the sweet taste of blood that sloshed upon his tongue.

He found himself standing. A figure loomed before him, standing in the middle of the rotting flowerbed.

Death would cut him down.

"Arima… Kishou…" Kaneki's eyes were wide with terror. Death turned. Blood licked his cheek. It was not his own.

Did angels bleed?

Kaneki had never found out.

But he asked.

He asked anyway.

"Can you bleed?"

He took a step. The flowers did not part for him. The stench only worsened. And still he moved. He was in a stupor.

Death did not speak. How could he? He was death. Death could not have a voice, or else he would scream for all eternity. How wretched his job must be! Wretched like him. Beautiful like him. Everything was suddenly so very bitter in the face of something so singularly terrible and wonderful and horrifying.

"I wonder…" Kaneki tilted his head. "Do angels get struck down?"

Death held his sword. Resolute till the end, Kaneki supposed.

"If you were a ghoul," Kaneki said, his kagune twisting out of his back in corkscrews, "you'd probably demolish any competition and put the One Eyed Owl to shame."

Death lifted his sword.

"I know," Kaneki sighed. "I'm fine, calm down."

Death jumped.

"I can still fi—"

An explosion of pain loosened his brain and pushed him to expel a scream. His eye was gone gone gone and his body was stuck on a spike drilled through his skull and he couldn't think or think or think or think it was all too damn much and he didn't know or know or know, what…? What…?

The scream rattled and rocked and ripped him inside out, leaving him raw from the fluctuating pitch that clawed out his larynx.

**IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD IT'S GOING THROUGH MY HEAD**

"It's going through my head!" Kaneki screamed, "It's going through my head!"

Something seemed to lift from him, a sheet that had been thrown over his head, and that allowed him to bolt upright, heaving deep gulps of air.

"It's going…!" he choked, tears wet in his eyes. "It's… through my…!"

Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders. He stared vacantly ahead of him, his vision swimming. As the world adjusted, it graced him with nothing but white. It made him sick. He knew he wasn't in heaven. How could he be? How could he have ever deluded himself that he'd be worthy of heaven?

"Kaneki!" The grip on his shoulders tightened. Kaneki had to blink a few times, but he managed to glance toward the source of the voice. It was a man. He was kneeling, his eyes wild with fear and confusion.

"My…" Kaneki uttered faintly, "head…"

"You're fine," Koutarou Amon said, pushing him gently back against a pillow. Kaneki was trying to puzzle out where he was.

The ceiling was white like the walls and like the sheets and it was nothing like heaven so fuck that, Kaneki wasn't dead or deluded, so it had to be a hospital, right, right, right? Right. Hospital.

"Not again…" he mumbled, covering his face with his hands. He massaged his eyelids. Yep, both eyes were still there.

"Does this happen… often…?" Amon had decidedly leaned back away from Kaneki when he removed his hands.

"What?" Kaneki pondered it. "No. I don't need to go to hospitals much anymore."

"Ah, no." Amon shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I meant the… nightmares. Kaneki, you were having a fit."

"Mm." He rubbed his stomach absently. "What else is new?"

"It's very troubling!" Amon's fists clenched against the cot, his thick eyebrows furrowing. "You are clearly having a violent reaction to something you must have— seen or experienced or fear. Night terrors are not something you should take lightly!"

"It was just a nightmare, Amon," Kaneki said, rising himself onto his elbows and peering up at the man with large eyes. "Nightmares are easy. They end."

"Not always," Amon remarked softly.

Kaneki sat up with a groan, holding his stomach as he went. It ached for some reason.

"Um, Amon…?" He threw the man a sheepish smile. "What happened to me?"

"Do you not remember?" Amon blinked rapidly. "You fought a ghoul, Nishio Nishiki. He attacked and severely injured you. We brought you to immediate medical attention."

"Ah." Kaneki's shoulders loosened. Nishiki. He wondered how his friend was fairing. If he'd made it to Anteiku or not. He was scared. He didn't want to know, really, but part of him was struggling not to rip out that damn IV and run down to the coffee shop to check for himself. "So how long have I been here for?"

"Well… Probably about forty hours give or take—"

"What?" Kaneki gasped, jerking forward so fast he nearly ripped out his IV. "That's not—! I mean, I should've fully healed hours ago! Why am I still here? How did I even sleep for so long?"

"Calm down, calm down!" Amon waved his hands fervently, his eyes narrowing sternly. "This was merely a precaution. The CCG doesn't know your biology just yet, so we had no idea if the wound would heal normally. Additionally, you frighten us. It's difficult not to admit that, with the way Mado acted out the other day." Amon sighed. He was clearly still very upset with his partner over what had transpired, and Kaneki honestly found it rather touching. "So naturally you were given RC suppressants when you were brought here. Unfortunately, it slowed your healing process significantly and kept you in a very deep, trance-like sleep."

"RC suppressants…" Kaneki's hand flew to his eye before he could stop himself. Yamori had used such a thing on him once, twice, seven hundred, a thousand times backward.

"We use them on ghouls we don't intend on killing right away," Amon explained. Then, hastily, his eyes flashed away from Kaneki's face. He looked to be pausing to collect his thoughts. "That is not the case with you, I promise."

"Thanks." Kaneki dragged his fingers down his face, and he sighed. "For your sincerity, I guess…?" He shifted so he was sitting completely upright. "No offense, but… Amon, why are you here?"

Amon had settled into a chair leaning against the wall, his eyes cast out toward the window that spilled astonishingly bright light into the room, making the white walls and floors and sheets seem to radiate a soft glow. It was clearly mid-morning, probably eight or so.

"Truthfully," he said quietly, "I had no intention of staying here this long. But when I was leaving, I happened to see your friend, Nagachika, sleeping in the lobby."

"Hide is here?" Kaneki blurted, his mind reeling back to his dream, goosebumps springing along his arms. It was hard not to think about it, but he managed to push it out of his head.

Amon shook his head. Kaneki wondered how disappointed his face looked.

"The CCG were the only ones who could authorize who saw you," Amon said apologetically. "Even your doctors were CCG staff. Nagachika was not going to be permitted to visit you no matter how long he waited."

"So he's still waiting?" Kaneki found himself fumbling at the tape pressed to the crook of his elbow.

"Stop that!" Amon jerked out of his chair and reached over Kaneki, prying his hands away from the IV. "Nagachika isn't here. I woke him up and told him to go home. That it was useless to wait."

"But…" Kaneki felt so deflated. He watched Amon walk around the cot and thumbed a clamp on the tubing, inspecting it thoughtfully. He did not turn it, however.

"I told Nagachika I would stay with you until you woke up," Amon explained. He took Kaneki's arm, cautiously peeling the tape and something transparent back, away from the direction the needle seemed to be inserted. Kaneki stared at the man confusedly. Why was he doing this?

"You…" He watched Amon remove the intravenous catheter with enormous care, slow and sure as he inspected the end of the needle. "Amon, you can't have actually been here for forty hours."

"I didn't mind." Amon set the needle aside, snatching a small package of tissues from Kaneki's bedside table and ripping them open. He pressed one to the small bead of blood that had bubbled up where the needle had been removed. "Here, hold this."

Kaneki took over pressing the tissue to the excruciatingly small wound, finding this all to be rather pointless since it would just heal anyway. Amon had managed to find a box of band-aids though, and he sat down at the edge of Kaneki's bed.

"You didn't have to do that," Kaneki gasped, leaning forward with wild eyes. "Amon, I'm okay! I'm a ghoul, remember? I heal fast."

"I wasn't really worried about that." Amon shook his head, ripping the band-aid open. "I was assured very early on that you'd be fine."

"So why…?"

Amon removed the tissue and applied the band-aid nimbly, as if he'd been patching skinned knees and paper cuts all his life. He set Kaneki's arm down on the cot, and he looked at him. He offered a meager shrug.

"It's hard," he admitted, "waking up to an empty room."

He stood up and turned away. Kaneki held the bandaged elbow, staring after him and feeling somewhat small and feeble. Like this man had reduced him to a child.  _It's hard to be alone_ , Kaneki thought numbly, watching Amon move toward the door.

"I'll get you some water," he said without turning back. "You can still have water, right?"

"Y-yes…"

"Okay, great. I'll be right back."

Kaneki exhaled as the man left the room. He wasn't sure what had just happened. But Amon was right. It  _was_  hard waking up to an empty room. He must've known that Kaneki had no immediate family. No one but Hide. No one to care if he died. It was sad, and Amon knew it, or else he wouldn't have stayed.

But the way he'd said that… the way he'd looked, sounded, moved… it was as if Amon were speaking from experience.

 _This world is wrong_.

Kaneki let himself lie back down and stare at the washed out white ceiling. Sunlight burnt his retinas, gleaming white specks floating on the edge of his vision. Amon had been so very right way back then, way in the future, way never to happen again.

The world was wrong, and hardly anyone wanted to fix that.

 _I do_ , he thought, squeezing his eyes shut.  _I do, I do_.

Why was it so hard to do the right thing? What were the qualifications for a correct decision, and where could Kaneki find them? He was desperate. He wanted to do the right thing, the thing that would have positive effects on everyone involved, but he didn't think this world had anything positive to offer without dosing out negativity in response. It made him sick to think about.

Kaneki considered crawling out of bed and sneaking out of the hospital, but he didn't think it'd be fair to Amon. After all, almost two days of sitting by someone's side probably took a lot of dedication. The man's willpower was really admirable.

Amon did not return immediately, though. In fact, after about half an hour, Kaneki was half mad with worry. Getting a water didn't take this long. And Kaneki knew something was wrong, he just didn't want to act on that knowledge. Like maybe if he just avoided the facts it would all go away.

But Kaneki couldn't do that. Of course he couldn't do that.

He got out of bed, wobbling a little on his unused legs, and he took a deep breath. His stomach was cramping, but the pain was dull, probably ghosting the wound that had been there. He was confused, though. If his IV drip had been filled with RC suppressants, how had his stomach healed?

When he left the room, he felt as though he'd broken out of jail. He walked on the tips of his toes across the linoleum floor, the chill sending shivers up his spine. Morning sunshine spilled into the white hall through his room, long fingers of light crawling across the walls, and he focused his senses on the surrounding area, testing for footsteps, voices, or even just simply bodies that might be standing in Kaneki's way.

He followed the corridor to a turn, and then he stopped. He heard Amon's voice. He turned around, blinking into the eerie, empty white hall, and he felt that something was going to get him, coming to get him, that he'd made a mistake and he was going to pay for it with blood.

But nothing came.

Empty rooms and empty halls and the purity of white walls caused inexplicable psychological thrills.

 _I feel like I'm being hunted_ , he thought, his eyes roving around him,  _but there's no one here. I can't hear any heartbeats, or breathing, or sense anyone creeping up on me_.

So it had to be all in his head.

Typical.

Just when Kaneki was convinced that he was in a deserted hospital, Amon appeared suddenly from around the corner. He didn't look surprised that Kaneki was out of bed, but he marched up to him and caught him by the bicep.

"I'm going to take you back to your apartment," he said without looking at Kaneki. His voice was hard.

"Did something just happen?" Kaneki wanted to shake his arm out of the man's grip, irritated that he was being dragged against his will, but he had a feeling Amon was right to do this.

"Not… really." Amon sighed. He looked really angry. "I signed all your papers, so you're free to go."

"Were you allowed to do that?" Kaneki asked incredulously.

Amon did not answer.

Kaneki began to realize what had happened.

Amon had stopped the RC suppressants. At some point during his ceaseless vigil, Amon had turned the roller clamp on the tubing so that the fluid would cease to run into Kaneki's veins. That allowed Kaneki to begin to actually heal, and once he'd healed sufficiently he'd jolted awake. And then Amon had taken him off the IV completely, without permission.

He'd effectively saved Kaneki from what could have been a medically induced coma.

Kaneki had to take a deep breath to keep himself from screaming.

He'd underestimated Amon. He'd truly had not understood how compassionate the man truly was.

Kaneki hugged his arms, glancing up at Amon's face as he stared forward, perfectly stoic.

"Hey, Amon," he said quietly, "thank you."

Amon glanced down at him in surprise. Kaneki met his gaze, his eyes wide and expressing his gratitude as best as they could. It made Amon smile. He clapped Kaneki on the top of the head, which made him yelp.

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving Kaneki a playful shove.

* * *

Sleep didn't come easy. And when it did, it came with a little thing they'd used to call CNS.

Chronic Nightmare Syndrome.

She sat in a bed of dead yellow grass, wearing a fluffy blue dress that ballooned around her knees. She was pouring coffee into a tray of teacups. She poured five cups.

"Is this enough?" she muttered to herself uncertainly. She counted. One, two, three, four, five. She spoke out loud. "One, two, three, four, five."

"Six."

A black rabbit had appeared at her side. He was small. Not really a rabbit at all. A black bunny! Yeah, a black bunny. He sat with a grumpy expression, his dark hair matted and dirty from burrowing holes in the earth. She wanted to make fun of him. Ha! Him! Rolling in the dirt! He hated getting dirty. But he also hated looking weak. Especially in front of her.

"No," she growled, "no, there're five. I counted."

"Six," the black bunny yawned, rolling his eyes. They mirrored her own. There was death and fury gleaming behind his bored expression. "You can't even count. Stupid sister."

"I counted, and there was five!" She was angry. Why was he even here? Stupid bunny! She could hear a watch around his neck ticking off the time they had left together, and it made her so fucking anxious. If he was gonna run, then he should fucking run! Leave her the hell alone!

She wouldn't follow.

She would never fucking follow.

"It's not my fault if you can't count."

"I  _can_  count, and you're wrong!" She gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing down to the tray of coffee. "See? One, two, three, four, five!" She pointed to each. One, two, three, four, five.

One was white. It was white and cold. Two was painted, crude little butterflies dancing around the rim. Three was black as coal. It was dusty. It hadn't been used in years. Four was cracked in half. It was made of stars, and black coffee pooled around the midnight shards. The fifth was shiny and new, made of black and white checkered tiles. They sat on her tray. She hated them all.

She loved them all.

"Six."

The bunny produced a green cup out from beneath his dusty black vest. Coffee sloshed around the brim.

"I never asked for a sixth," she hissed.

"You never asked for a fifth either." The bunny's ears twitched beneath his ratty hair. "You shouldn't even have the fourth. Why keep it around? It's broken to fuckin' pieces, and it was never any good to begin with."

"Shut up," she barked. She was tired of him bad mouthing something so precious to her. "Just go away! Go! I won't follow you this time."

"Good," he spat at her. He stood up, reaching into the steaming green cup, and as coffee overflowed from its porcelain rim, he withdrew a string. It dangled on the tip of his finger.

He tossed a crisp, dry white medical eyepatch at her feet, and he let the cup fall into the grass. She jerked forward, knocking over the dusty black cup as she caught the green teacup in her shaky fingers.

"Damn it," she gasped, cradling the cup in her lap. Something was wrong with it. She didn't know what. She was scared. She didn't know what to do! "You almost broke it, Ayato!"

"Can't break what's already broken," her brother sneered, plucking up his dusty teacup and thumbing a small crack that had appeared on its dull surface. She watched him. She felt a scream rising in her throat as his thumb applied pressure onto the crack.  _Stop_ , she thought dazedly.  _Please. Don't. Don't do this to me. Ayato. Ayato. Ayato_ …

She heard a spine-chilling  _crack_  and she watched in horror as he let the shattered remains of his teacup fall to the dead grass.

Touka woke up with a sharp intake of breath. Thorns were digging into her legs. A dream of a dream of a nightmare stuck to her heavy eyelids. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest. She listened. She held her breath to listen harder. Where was that rhythm? She'd memorized it. It was less of a rattle and more of a slow succession of puffing breaths. A soft rhythm. She knew it. She knew it by heart. But she could not hear it. So her heart thundered louder.

She bolted upright, panic flooding her as her eyelids peeled open and she glanced hastily around the dark, shadowy room.

"Ayato?" she gasped, pushing her hair out of one eye to get a better look at the lumpy bed across from hers.

It all came back to her in a flash.

Her stupid brother wasn't here.

He wasn't here.

She took a deep breath. Okay. Yeah. He wasn't here. Why did she even expect him to be here? It was laughable. Ayato had left so long ago, honestly, she sometimes forgot she even had a brother. Sometimes she felt like an only child.

But then she came back to her room and she saw the empty bed.

Ayato had made running away look so easy.

She flicked on her light and slapped her face gently.

"Wake up," she grumbled. She threw her legs over the side of her bed, pushing her blanket back and stretching her arms. "Stupid…"

When she checked her phone for the time, she realized it was nearly dawn.  _Well_ , she thought grimly,  _might as well stay awake_. She walked over to the other bed and plucked a long sweater from the pile of clothes heaped onto it. She shrugged it on and left her room, treading carefully through the kitchenette and out her door. Migrating downstairs to make herself a proper cup of coffee wouldn't hurt anyone.

It relaxed her to prepare the coffee and make herself a cup. She was able to push her dream out of her mind. Soon she forgot what had even happened. She only knew that it had been about Ayato. That was all she really needed to know. She wanted nothing to do with it.

The coffee was good. It was bitter and strong. Just was she needed to get through a long ass day.

As she moved up the stairs, she heard voices murmuring somewhere down the hall. Now, that was something. Was the manager up already? Was something happening? Why hadn't she been woken up sooner, then? She lived here, she could participate in emergency Anteiku meetings. Jeez.

She held her coffee cup with both hands as she padded down the hall, shouldering open a cracked door. She leaned in the doorway as all conversations ceased, and Yoshimura, Irimi, and Koma all turned to look at her.

"Touka," Koma choked. He covered his surprise with a sharp laugh. "Oh man, Touka, what are you doing up so early?"

"Right back at you," she said, taking a sip from her cup. Irimi smirked, and she turned her face forward. Yoshimura was eying her with something like amusement, but she could never really tell. He might have been covering confusion. He too moved his eyes, and when Touka followed them, she realized what all the fuss was about.

"What the fuck is this?" she asked sharply.

"Now, Touka," Yoshimura scolded her gently. "Don't be rude."

There was a guy lying on his back, his side and shoulder stained deep crimson from blood. He'd cracked one eye open to glance at her. She realized she knew his face, and she sneered.

"You're the scumbag trying to snag Rize's territory," she recalled, watching him from behind the screen of steam rising from her cup.

"You keeping tabs on me or something…?" The man didn't sit up, but he did scowl at her. She didn't like him. Not one bit. "Sorry, doll face, but I'm spoken for."

"Tch." She scoffed into her coffee. "Disgusting."

"He doesn't sound like someone on his deathbed," Irimi remarked suddenly, turning to Yoshimura. "Maybe he doesn't need us after all?"

"Hey, it was a joke," the man hissed, wincing a bit as he sat up. "I'm sorry… I…" He fell back onto the couch and groaned.

"The damage done isn't by any means critical, Nishiki," Yoshimura said. "However, you will need a lot of rest and nutrition to get back to your full strength again. Until that time, you are more than welcome to stay here."

Touka's eyebrows shot up, but she didn't say anything. She knew better than to harp at Yoshimura about his charity. But honestly! This guy? He was literally just scum scraped off a shoe! He was gonna act like such a needy patient too, calling for water or meat, or something. Ugh. Was the day over yet? Touka took a great gulp of her coffee to keep herself from lashing out.

"Ah… thanks, old man." Nishiki sighed, and he gave a quick nod. "I'll get out of your hair soon. Promise."

"Take your time," Yoshimura told him genially. "There is a spare bed in Touka's room. As long as it's alright with her, of course."

Her blood was boiling. She had to keep it cool, though. Real cool. Subtle cool. Fucking cool.

"No," she said flatly, turning away.

"Aww, why not, Touka?" Koma teased. "Scared of a boy sleeping in your room?" He ended up grunting sharply in pain. Touka knew Irimi had probably clocked him, or elbowed him, or kicked him, or something satisfying like that. Served him right, honestly. Like a third rate ghoul like this Nishiki fucker could scare her.

"That bed is currently inhabited by a pile of clothes," she said, turning her head back to glare into the room. "I'd have to move it if he sleeps there."

"Touka," Yoshimura sighed.

"I'm being serious."

"I want you to tell me if this set up will make you uncomfortable," he said, standing up. "I can always set up a guest room."

She didn't want to admit defeat. If she did, if she admitted that she wasn't comfortable with some strange guy sleeping across from her for a few nights, Koma wouldn't let her hear the end of it. The things she did for her fucking street cred.

"No," she sighed, gripping her coffee cup tightly in both hands to keep from making a fist. "It's fine. But he stays on the other side of the room. And he gets dressed in the bathroom. It's bad enough I have to see his face, I can't imagine how ugly the rest of him is."

"Hey…" Nishiki growled, cracking one eye open.

"Fair enough." Yoshimura nodded to Koma and Irimi. "Why don't you two take him up to Touka's room? I'd like to fill her in on what she missed."

"You got it, boss," Koma murmured, rubbing his side. Irimi must have dealt a pretty nice blow. Touka moved aside, glowering at Nishiki as he hobbled past.

"Sit, Touka." The manager gestured to the seat Irimi had occupied. Touka's shoulders loosened, and she sighed, inching forward into the room and taking a seat. Yoshimura sat across from her. "I'm surprised you're up this early. You don't have a morning shift."

"No." She thumbed the rim of her cup. Something jolted in her head, something about a teacup, a thumb, crushing. Sadness. Ayato.

"A nightmare."

What a blunt statement. He made assumptions. He was right. How she hated that!

"I don't know," she mumbled, resting her cup against her knee. It was warm. A welcome warmth. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"You don't have to tell me." Yoshimura leaned back. "I'm just concerned. You've been doing so well with nightmares lately."

 _I just stopped talking about them_ , she thought glumly.  _They never actually went away_. But she didn't say that. Who said stuff like that? So she merely hummed in agreement and sipped her coffee.

"I know this situation isn't ideal," he said, "but he has nowhere else to go. The CCG is hunting him."

"And he came here?" Touka choked, leaning forward sharply. "Sir! He could have led the doves right to us!"

"Unlikely," he said. His eyes were closed serenely. "Nishiki waited several hours before approaching Anteiku. He made certain he wasn't followed."

"That crazy bastard!" Touka huffed, and she looked away from the manager. "How'd he even know about us? Honestly, it's not like we advertise!"

"Ah." Yoshimura's eyes opened, and he cracked a vague smile. "That is the fascinating thing."

"Uh oh." Touka puffed out her cheeks and slid down into her seat. "Fascinating, huh? Sounds like trouble."

"More like an opportunity." Yoshimura shook his head. He seemed almost disbelieving. "Do you remember Kaneki Ken?"

"No," she answered reflexively. Of course after she thought about it, the name struck her. Yes, she remembered that dead boy walking. Rize had taken an interest in him. She'd already said her prayers for him, thinking about the lost potential of the life he'd never live, when he'd showed up at her back door and called her out on some shit. Man, that had pissed her off. Who the fuck did he think he was? Who gave him the right?

"He was here a few weeks ago," he reminded her, "asking for help. You were trying to turn him away, because he used to be human. Is that jogging anything?"

"Yes." She frowned. Okay, so that Kaneki kid was involved somehow. That… made things kind of weird. How was that kid even surviving on his own without any real experience in the ghoul world?

"Well Kaneki Ken decided to join the doves."

Touka looked at Yoshimura sharply. No way. What?

"Is he  _dense_?" she gasped, tossing her coffee cup onto the table so she could jerk to her feet. "That— that idiot! He went to the doves? He's going to end up a heap of scraps on a lab table! And we can't bail him out, it's not even possible! Did he think at all? What the hell!"

"Are you quite done?"

"No!" She groaned slapping her forehead beneath her bangs. "This is just the thing I needed. I didn't expect to actually feel guilty about being mean to that stupid guy! And his friend comes in here all the time, I'll have to look at him and smile and pretend like nothing happened. It was easy when it was Rize! Rize wasn't my responsibility. But doves? Doves are the worst! I could have— I should have warned him about doves!"

"Touka," Yoshimura said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It appears that the Kaneki has effectively infiltrated the CCG."

"Excuse me?" Touka wasn't really understanding. How did you infiltrate the CCG? Doves were doves, ghouls were ghouls. They existed as polar opposites, enemies meant to clash, meant to crash. They could not coexist. Nature repelled such a notion. And so they hunted each other.

"They let him live," he said with a mild shrug. "I couldn't say for certain why, but I'd assume they took his humanity into account. The doves love their projects, after all."

"That's insane," she muttered, falling back into her seat. "So he's… what, working for them now? That's totally insane, no way any ghoul in their right mind—!"

"Touka, Kaneki was quite human until very recently." Yoshimura shook his head. "Regardless, he feels a strong inclination toward his ghoul side. I think he cares very much about the value of an innocent life, be it human or ghoul. That is why he let Nishiki go."

"He…?" Touka wanted to lie down in her bed again until she woke up. The nightmare— the bunny and the cups and the eyepatch and Ayato— it made more sense than this. This felt more like a dream than anything else. "No way. There's no way he's on our side!"

"Nishiki mentioned that there were two doves with Kaneki when they fought." Yoshimura extended one finger. "The first was a man that Kaneki went out of his way to protect. He was equally as defensive of Kaneki. The second was clearly very hostile to both Nishiki and Kaneki, and openly admitted that he wanted both of them to die."

That felt more like an explanation than the actual explanation. She felt at peace with the idea that at least someone in the CCG was rejecting the idea. Just so, though, she felt an indescribable rage. They weren't just rejecting Kaneki, but ghouls as a whole! This was unfair. Kaneki was being treated unfairly because he was a ghoul, and it made her so angry!

"I don't get it." She stood up. "Thank you, sir, for telling me, but I have no idea what is wrong with that guy. It seems to me like he has a death wish."

"Mm…" Yoshimura picked up her cup and offered it up to her. "I actually think it's quite different. I believe he truly wants to change the world."

She took her coffee slowly. And then she scoffed.

"Yeah right," she murmured.

* * *

Kaneki was allowed to rest for a few days, which was a lot and nothing at all. He didn't like being cooped up, but staying away from the CCG was nice. Kaneki had some time to catch up on some reading. But the ugly thing about being alone was that Kaneki had too much time to think. He had to think. And there were things he really did not want to think about.

Hide came by after Kaneki was released. He didn't make any excuses about not being there. He didn't really bring up the hospitalization at all. He avoided it, and Kaneki didn't know why, but he was grateful. Hide didn't make a fuss over Kaneki's health. He was just there.

And that was all Kaneki really needed from him. To just be there.

Amon had called him earlier to tell him he'd be dropping by. It was likely he wanted to check Kaneki's condition, to see if he was fit to go back to work. That meant that Kaneki's time was up, and he wasn't sure if he was happy or not. It was hard to be happy when he still could not tell if the choice he'd made was the right one.

Would he ever be able to know for sure?

Well, Hide came and went quickly, off to a lecture for a class on government. Apparently it was a total bore. He slept through it most of the time. But Kaneki couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, because as much as he distanced himself from that campus, as much as he hated to admit it, he  _wanted_  to learn. He loved school. He loved reading and learning new things. Being a ghoul stripped him of that liberty. Being a ghoul investigator catapulted him into the horrors of adulthood. He had to skip the learning bit.

There was a firm knock at his door, so he stood up from the floor, marking his page and tossing his book aside. This was one of Takatsuki Sen's works. He was rereading it for kicks, hoping to find some solace from the familiar pages, the cryptic prose, the startling metaphors for loneliness and isolation and self-idolatry coupled with self-neglect. He loved it. He could never get enough. It reminded him that he was alive.

He opened the door expecting to look up at Amon's face. That was a mistake. It allowed for a small, skinny forearm to slip beneath his chin and nearly crush his larynx.

"Make a sound and I'll kill you," Kirishima Touka warned, her eyes flashing beneath the smooth part of her bangs. She pushed him into his living room, forcing him to step back, step back, step back again in a rapid backpedal. She kicked his door shut.

She was wearing her school uniform. That was probably bad. Truly a dumb move on her part, honestly. When she'd gone to the CCG for info that one time, she'd made an attempt to disguise herself and Kaneki, never betraying her actual school. If he had to guess, by the strap of her backpack against her hooded sweater, she'd come here on a total whim.

He held up his arms in plain surrender. Her one visible eye narrowed. He didn't think she was as angry as she was trying to seem. Yes, she was clearly intimidating, but he didn't feel intimidated by her. Would she hurt him? Maybe. It was possible. Actually, she definitely would if she felt it was necessary. He didn't think she'd get any pleasure out of it though.

She backed him up right into a wall. His head knocked against it, his chin lowering to provide some space between her arm and his throat. He took a deep breath.

"Why the fuck did you go to the doves?" she growled, glowering into his face. She loosened her hold on him just enough so he could speak.

"Sorry…" He stared into her eyes until she was forced to really look at him. He didn't have anything more to say.

"Sorry?" She was even more furious now.  _Damn_ , he thought.  _So much for sincerity_. "I don't care how sorry you are! Answer my question!"

"Please don't yell," he murmured, averting his eyes. "I'll cooperate."

"You don't seem very cooperative."

"I don't want to fight you." He let his eyes flash to hers, and he tried to pull all his emotion, all his genuine resolve into his eyes so she could see. So she could know. He wouldn't fight her even if she started beating him to a pulp. Even if she threatened to kill him. Even if she did kill him. He wouldn't do it.

He was banking a lot on Touka's empathy.

Luckily for him, she wasn't quite as tough as she let on. She cracked. She cautiously removed her arm, and he relaxed, rubbing his neck and giving a little cough. It wasn't for show. She'd really hurt him.

"Explain yourself," she snapped.

He glanced up at her. He shrugged feebly. "I just thought it was the best option at the time," he said blankly. "I don't really know why I did it. I didn't think. It was just a split second decision, something I've been regretting since the moment I made it."

"That's because you're an idiot!" Touka's hands flew to her side, balled into tight fists. He could almost feel her fists raining down on him. "You didn't think? Are you stupid? Honestly! The doves don't care if you were human once! They're going to tear you apart, Kaneki!"

She sounded like she cared. It warmed his heart, really. Truly, it did.

"Maybe they will," he admitted. "I knew there was going to be a risk, okay? Obviously it was reckless, but it was my life I put on the line, and I'd rather it stay that way." He watched her as she glared at him. "Is Nishiki okay?"

She scoffed. It was a sharp  _tsk_ ing noise, a brief intake of breath that coiled up her entire body. "Why do you care?" she sneered. "You damn dove."

"Listen, I know you know I let him go," he sighed. "Otherwise you wouldn't have come. How did you know my address, anyway?"

"Your friend is a blabbermouth," Touka muttered.

Kaneki's jaw tightened. And then he groaned, smacking his forehead irritably. "Hide…" he hissed.

"Yeah, him." Touka stuffed her hands into her pockets and scowled at him. "What's with him? Why is he so… excited? All the fucking time?"

"That's just his personality," Kaneki laughed weakly. "He's like that with everyone."

"It's weird." She sniffed, and she looked around his apartment. "So. Why?"

"I told you why."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes violently. "Wow, okay. Why did you spare Nishiki? He's pretty much scum."

"You think so?" Kaneki was surprised. Though he shouldn't have been. To Touka, pretty much anyone even remotely unfavorable was scum. "I didn't get that vibe."

"He would've killed your friend, Hide, without a second thought," she said in a bored, dull voice. "You should learn to weed out the nasty folk if you're hunting ghouls for the doves."

"Is that advice?" Kaneki looked at her, and watched her face transform in slight horror.

"It's a warning!" she snapped, kicking him back against the wall. "You think you'll be able to just free the next ghoul you catch? Bullshit! The doves will catch on, and you'll be just another trophy on their wall!"

"I only intend to free the ghouls I think are innocent." Kaneki winced as her heal dug into his chest. "Can you please stop? Holy crap!"

"You're so weak." She released him, whirling away and stomping toward his kitchenette. "It's pathetic! How did you convince the doves to let you live?"

"I just answered their questions honestly."

"Bull."

"But it's the truth."

"You're made of bullshit, Kaneki Ken." She half turned toward him, her one eye flashing dangerously.

"That's probably true." He didn't want to lie to her. He was so happy to see her, to speak to her, to be around her for just a little while, it didn't seem to matter to him anymore how she thought of him as long as she was there. That was the trouble with becoming attached to people. Their feelings never mattered.

"Why did you let Nishiki go?" Touka asked it calmly this time.

Kaneki sighed. "It was my fault he got caught," he said softly. "I accidentally led an investigator with alarming instincts to Nishiki. I felt responsible, and I couldn't bear it if he died because of my stupidity."

She looked at him with widening eyes. Her mouth opened, but not a sound left them. She seemed totally at a loss.

Kaneki was suddenly aware of footsteps coming toward his door. By the way Touka coiled up, she sensed someone else there too.

"Hide!" he gasped, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead as he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward his bedroom door. "Don't say or do anything. I'll try to get him to go away."

She stared at him, anger and fear and disgust toiling inside her gaze. He yanked her hood up and pushed her into his room.

"Not a word," he hissed.

She mouthed at him, "Fuck you." Then she flipped him off. He closed the door as quietly as he could as a knock sounded from the front door.

He took a deep, shaky breath. Touka was the last person he wanted to get involved with this bullshit. He couldn't even be surprised, really, because it was Touka. She was always so angry and ready for confrontation. If she was even remotely bitter about something, she made it known. She wasn't especially open about her feelings, but she sure as hell didn't bottle her issues up.

Amon stood in the doorway, his eyes flicking above Kaneki's head. He looked puzzled.

"Hey." Kaneki didn't need to put much effort in hiding his distress. He'd gone months and months wearing emptiness like an oversized sweater.

"Were you talking to someone?" Amon asked with a frown.

"Huh?" Kaneki tilted his head. "No. Are you hearing voices, Amon?" Kaneki managed a weak laugh. "That's pretty weird."

"Yeah." Amon glanced away. He seemed to be deep in thought. Kaneki watched him vacantly. "Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"Fine." Kaneki wrapped his arms around his stomach. The wound Nishiki's kagune had given him was completely gone. Kaneki had inspected his stomach, and the more time that passed, the more his ribs protruded and the more emaciated he became. He was continuing daily exercises to keep in shape. Or at least get into shape. He was pretty weak right now, and he'd never be able to protect anyone at this rate.

"You look better." Amon cupped his chin as he peered down at Kaneki. "You remember what Mado said, right?"

Kaneki's jaw tightened. He nodded firmly.

"Don't forget," Amon warned, his eyes hard with a blunt warning. "I won't be able to protect you if you lose control."

"I wouldn't want you to." Kaneki looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Amon seemed surprised. He sounded a little confused.

"You guys are responsible for me. For whatever actions I take." Kaneki watched him, watched his expression as it melted sympathetically. "I know you got in trouble for letting me off the RC suppressants."

Amon sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes sharply. "Honestly…" He grimaced. "I was told that keeping you under was for everyone's safety. That once it was deemed that you were no longer a threat, they'd pull you up. But I sat in that room for two days, and you were only checked twice by a CCG approved doctor. They never gave me any real information about your condition, but I knew what was wrong with you."

"You made a really interesting call." Kaneki's eyes widened. "They probably would have kept me asleep for as long as they possibly could."

"I wouldn't say that…" Amon sounded pretty uncertain. But he likely felt the need to defend the CCG regardless. "It was definitely a little weird, though. I didn't think it was fair to you to keep you unconscious. You're not a bad person."

"Are you really sure about that?"

Amon looked down at him sharply. Kaneki was rattled by his own words. Why had he said that? He didn't want Amon to suspect him of anything! But it had been a real question. He was genuinely curious.

"Do you think you're a bad person?" Amon asked him cautiously.

"I don't know." Kaneki answered earnestly. He closed his eyes, and he could hear shuffling in his room. He didn't think Amon's ears were sharp enough to pick it up, though.

"Well," Amon said, "it's not like it's an easy question to answer. In reality, no one is a picturesque model of virtue. Don't worry about it. I think you're fine."

"You're kinda…" Kaneki cocked his head at him.

Amon stared blankly. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Oh." Kaneki blinked. "Sorry, it's just… you're super genuine. It's weird."

"I…" Amon's forehead wrinkled beneath his fringe of hair. "I can't tell if that's a compliment or not."

"Oh. Sorry—"

"You like to apologize." Amon shook his head in disbelief. "It's not necessary. I don't need your apology, Kaneki. I'm not offended, or anything."

"Oh. Okay…"

"You're probably ready to come back to work," he observed. "I can tell Mado to give you an extra day or two just to be certain, though."

Kaneki had to smile. "That's probably unnecessary," he said. "But thank you. You've been really kind to me."

"From what I've observed, you aren't exactly getting much acceptance from humans." Amon shook his head, looking a little irritated. "I can't imagine how ghouls would react to you. You're different. People hate people that are different."

Kaneki's smile turned grim. "That would explain how ghouls are treated," he said with a bite to his tone.

Amon watched him. His expression was emptied of all reaction, all emotion, and Kaneki sensed he'd made a misstep.

"You should be careful what you say," Amon warned, turning toward the door. "Especially around Mado."

 _You can't stop me_ , Kaneki wanted to say.  _You can't make me stop feeling what I feel!_

But he didn't shout. He didn't even breathe. He just watched the tall man leave, vanishing from his living room and leaving him emptied of all devotion. He felt that creeping voice spreading out throughout his chest. He wanted to fill it. He wanted to fill his lungs with air, to see the sun again.

When Amon was gone, Kaneki crept back to his room. When he opened the door, he wasn't surprised to find the room was empty. His window was half open. He glanced around, trying to decide if she'd touched anything. Then he noticed there was a gap in his bookcase. He walked over to it, thumbing the empty space. She'd stolen a book from him.

It had been an old, decaying copy of  _Alice in Wonderland_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> schoenobates, schoenobatae.  
> tightrope-walker.


	7. vindex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this has been the longest i've gone without updating so far! don't worry, this fic is still going steady. unfortunately, i'm still writing two other fics at the same time as this, and i recently started a new job, so my schedule is getting tighter. also once the school year starts i doubt updates will be this frequent. but who knows? hopefully my other fics will be done, and if that's the case then updates will probably be the same.
> 
> anyway, thank you for all your feedback! particularly about hide?? everyone seems to love the way i write hide lmao, i'm glad. since when i started this fic i was literally like "ok time to totally bullshit hide's entire personality since he's so enigmatic" like i'm glad that paid off. anyway, finally we are rolling on toward the actual plot of this fic. enjoy!

He couldn’t help but feel aggravated when Hide laughed his ass off at him the next day.

“She actually came here?” he gasped, his arms wrapped around his belly to fend off cramps, mischief gleaming in his eyes. He had on a wicked grin, the kind that made Kaneki reconsider all the time they’d spent together and want to punch him right in the mouth. He didn’t, of course. He had a considerable amount of self-restraint now, since his mind was clearer and his body was weaker.

“Yes, she came here,” Kaneki hissed, glaring fiercely at Hide. “Amon nearly saw her! Hide, if he’d caught her—!”

“What?” Hide relaxed immediately, his eyes drooping and his expression growing innocent. “If he’d caught her here, you could have lied out of it easily.”

“Are you kidding?”

Hide shot him a curious glance. He shook his head in disbelief, and he flopped down onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. Kaneki was too frustrated to even yell at him.

“You could have said she was a friend of mine,” Hide said breezily, ticking off numbers on his fingers and raising them up so Kaneki could see his own incompetence. “You could have said she was related to your cousin or uncle, close enough that he’d accept it but distant enough not to rouse suspicion. You could have said she was a stranger you were fooling around with, which is something he’d readily accept and not ask questions about, considering his reaction to Kimi and Nishio.” He had three fingers offered up in the air. He glanced at Kaneki and smiled brightly. “That’s three easy lies you could have used. If Touka were really in that much trouble, you would have found a way to get her out of here without suspicion.”

Kaneki exhaled sharply. He didn’t even know how to respond to that. It felt like Hide had already thought of everything, like he’d had this planned out from the moment he’d told Touka where to find Kaneki.

“I didn’t think of any of that,” he muttered, feeling furious and utterly useless. “Hide, she could have been in serious trouble.”

“But she’s not.” Hide clenched his three fingers into a fist and smiled brightly. “She’s fine. Amon doesn’t know anything about her, and it’ll stay that way.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Kaneki murmured. He was so distraught already by how much he’d fucked up. Nishiki had nearly died because he’d been stupid, he’d been foolish and messy and his friends were going to pay the price. This was how he’d lost Anteiku in the first place!

“No,” Hide admitted. He sounded very thoughtful. “You’re right, there’s always a possibility that Touka will be hunted. But if she is, that burden won’t be on you.”

“What do you mean?” Kaneki could not understand what Hide was thinking. It was becoming increasingly clear that no matter how much he thought he knew about Hide, he was always keeping something important hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t outwardly lie, but he committed the sin of omission like a demon laying traps before making a pact.

“You’re doing the best you can,” Hide said firmly. “I don’t know Touka very well, but I can tell she’s a very strong person. She’s not very much like you or me.” He leaned his head back against the couch to look up at the ceiling. It seemed like he was contemplating something. Kaneki didn’t understand. “I mean that, like, she obviously really loves confrontation. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gone to your apartment immediately after I told her where to find you. So she’s probably someone who acts before she thinks, and makes decisions not out of logic, but out of passion.” Hide was biting the skin of his cuticles, his eyes half lidded and dazed as he stared up at the ceiling. “Not to say she isn’t smart. She probably is. But people like Touka tend to make trouble for themselves because they are too strong willed to back down.”

“That…” Kaneki didn’t know what to say. Hide had no idea who Touka was. He couldn’t know her like Kaneki knew her. And yet, he’d made an incredible analysis of her personality based on one sole fact. Touka had taken the bait when he’d told her Kaneki’s address. That was all Hide had needed to make these assumptions on her character.

And that was fucking scary.

Hide seemed to jolt, his body jerking forward and his eyes flashing to Kaneki’s. It seemed as though he’d been forced to wake up from some feverish dream, like he’d tapped into some evil presence nestled deep within him, and by the stunned look on his face, he did not do this often.

“Sorry, buddy,” Hide laughed easily, scratching his temple. “I got carried away, I think. Touka’s a really nice girl, and I don’t want anything to happen to her. I’m just saying that she might end up bringing shit upon herself, and if that happens it’s not your fault.”

Kaneki bit his tongue. _It’s not your fault_. How could that be true? He felt like everything was his fault. That was why he’d joined the CCG to begin with. To rectify his mistakes. But Hide was telling him that it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault, and that was so fucked up. What wasn’t his fault? Touka acted without his influence, sure, but if anything happened to her, Kaneki knew he’d blame himself.

“If I can protect Touka,” he said, his voice dead, “then I will. It’s that simple.”

Hide watched him with dull surprise. His expression immediately softened. He nodded.

“Sounds pretty simple,” he agreed. “But she might not want your help, y’know?”

“Touka can deal with other ghouls,” Kaneki said, listening to his own coarse, vacant tone as it slipped from his lips like barbed wire. “All I need to do is keep her away from the CCG.”

“Well,” Hide said with a bright grin, “then I guess you have a lot less to worry about!”

Kaneki nodded. He wasn’t particularly nervous, but that might’ve been because he’d made a point to turn his emotions off. He needed to think. But now that he was thinking, he didn’t feel so great about acting like this with Hide. Hide didn’t know what a monster Kaneki really could be. It wasn’t fair of Kaneki to continue to use this tactic, this emotional kill switch that allowed him to speak calmly about all the awful things that plagued him.

He let himself relax. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and he glanced down at Hide. “You’re taking this pretty well,” he said. “Aren’t you wondering why I’m so determined to protect a girl I barely know?”

Kaneki hadn’t wanted to bring that up, but it was bothering him that Hide hadn’t. So he decided to beat him to the punch.

“Huh?” Hide twisted on the couch to look up at Kaneki, his eyes big and bright. “Kaneki, you don’t need a reason to care about people. And you definitely don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

 _You always know exactly what to say_ , Kaneki thought. He was in awe of his friend, completely captivated by all the things he knew he didn’t know, and all the things about this boy that could not be explained, and he wished that he could be the one person Hide confided in. But he knew. He knew it was only fair.

It wasn’t like Kaneki told him everything.

In fact, until recently, Kaneki had made it a rule of thumb to feed Hide the bare minimum of information.

“Thanks, Hide,” he murmured.

“No thanks needed, bro.” Hide was beaming, his eyes closed and his hands offered up, palms facing forward. “But you know… I’m kinda curious. Why did you go through so much trouble for Nishio?”

Because he was beginning to understand how Hide gained his information, he was hesitant to answer. He didn’t give any immediate reaction that might give Hide an idea of what he was thinking, because he could see his friend’s eye open a crack, the brown of his iris glistening at the corner beneath his heavy lashes. He was skilled at the art of observation. His eyes were probably very keen, and his mind worked far faster than Kaneki had ever given it credit for.

Hide was probing him for explanations without Kaneki even realizing it.

That seemed to be how Hide worked.

Could Kaneki even really blame him?

He sighed. There was no way around answering. He didn’t want to anger Hide, or anything, so he would have to tell him something. But what could he say? There was no real explanation for it, since the truth was out of the question. Kaneki was determined to save his friends, but Hide didn’t know, couldn’t know, that Kaneki was from some weird alternate future.

“I felt responsible,” he murmured, feeling dizzy from his lie. He didn’t want Hide to know how stressful this all was. “I brought Mado to Kamii. It was my fault Nishiki was caught.”

Hide stood up. All he did was nod, as if that explanation sufficed, as though it sated his undying curiosity, and that was honestly terrifying.

“You really feel responsible?” Hide’s eyes gave away nothing but a soft, distant emotion that Kaneki could not put a name to.

“Yes,” he said. It was a firm, focused reply, his eyes boring into Hide’s. He needed to make sure that there was an understanding between them. Kaneki was ready to make absolutely no sense if it meant he could fool Hide about this one thing.

“Okay.” Hide nodded. There were no more questions. He merely shrugged on his backpack and clapped Kaneki on the shoulder. “Let’s go see him.”

“What?” Kaneki asked flatly.

Hide glanced at him, and he grinned boldly. “That guy was definitely hiding something,” he said. “I think it was more than just him being a ghoul. He was a pretty nasty dude, but I feel like he couldn’t have been all bad.” He gripped Kaneki’s shoulder, his grin sliding away. “I’m going to trust you. If you think he was worth saving, I want to understand why.”

 _I will never understand you,_ Kaneki thought in blatant awe. It was a truth he could not deny. He’d never understood and he’d never understand.

It was a fate resigned to simply gaping at a blinding mystery for all of eternity.

So Kaneki nodded. He nodded, and they both set off.

Kaneki had gotten an extra day off from Amon, so he thought this was probably as good a time as any to make the dreaded visit to Anteiku. He didn’t know if the fact that Hide was with him made him more anxious, or if he felt more comfortable. He didn’t know what was going to happen, if he was taking the right steps, making the right choices, but he supposed that was simply life.

“You seem kinda down.” Hide tilted his head. “Dude, if I said something I shouldn’t have, you gotta let me know. I’m not really used to speaking up about what’s on my mind.”

“No, no!” Kaneki shook his head furiously. “What you did was really cool! I just… I don’t know. I’m worried, I think.”

“Everything will turn out okay,” Hide told him gently.

Kaneki listened to his own vicious exhale, and he wished he could tell Hide that the world didn’t work like that. Nothing was okay. Everything fucking sucked.

The world worked as an unsteady hand, jerking people around like a needle made to pierce through an eye and lobotomize you.

“Don’t you have class?” he asked, sticking his hands into the pocket of his sweater as they paused at an intersection. Anteiku was in clear sight now, and just glancing at the building made his stomach tie into tight knots. His breath had hitched. He was terrified.

“Yeah, I can go after this.” Hide shrugged. “No big deal.”

Yeah, okay. Hide said that, but Kaneki had a feeling he was slacking. He eyed him coldly, and Hide threw his hands up in defense.

“I swear I’ll get to class on time!” he gasped. “Holy shit, Kaneki, what is with that scary look?”

Kaneki forced himself to relax, if only because Hide’s words felt like a slap. Had his look really been scary? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what he looked like when he utilized his more unsavory personality traits. Things that he’d picked up from others. He knew that he was just reflecting the intimidation tactics he’d seen used on him, but it was hard to shake off a facet of your personality after incorporating it.

“I just don’t want you to fall behind,” he murmured. Because he wanted Hide to have a future. He wanted Hide to continue to live, to thrive, to have hope in a world where he was destined to fall.

If Kaneki could change just one thing. Just one…

He thought, for sure, that it would have to be that destiny.

The smell of coffee beans hit him, and nostalgia dug its mighty claws into his gut. A bell rung inside his head, a distant reminder of days that had shuffled past in such a daze, everything seeming so damn hard, everything seeming so damn perfect. He felt like he’d stepped into a dream, like his mind was floating in the slow current of his memory and his body was frozen in a horrified state.

Coffee made his mouth water.

The simple scent of it made his eyes water.

He was such a sentimental fool.

“Yo!” Koma was standing behind the counter. He was looking at Hide, paying no mind to Kaneki, who was digging his nails into his palms, his fists thrust into the pockets of his sweater. He had to keep from crying. It’d be too difficult to explain. “Touka’s not here, buddy, hate to say. Want me to tell her you stopped by?” Koma was wiggling his eyebrows.

“Touka’s not here?” Hide’s voice managed to hit a soft, miserable pitch that was truly lamentable. He spoke Touka’s name with an almost forced familiarity. _Touka-chan. Touka-chan!_ That tone would never change. “Damn! I guess there wasn’t even really a point, huh, Kaneki?”

Koma’s eyes flashed to Kaneki’s face. His playful expression turned into something like shock, his mouth opening wide as though he had words stuck inside his throat, but he couldn’t manage to choke them out.

“Touka is still in high school, Hide,” Kaneki reminded his friend gently. He knew Hide already knew that, but he needed to act normal. “Some people actually care about school.”

“Says the drop out!” Hide scoffed, hopping up to the bar. He smiled at Koma brightly. “Can I get a cappuccino, then?”

“You got it,” Koma said, snapping out of his shock and throwing Hide a firm thumbs up. He looked at Kaneki pointedly.

“I’m okay, thank you,” Kaneki said nervously. He glanced at the door beside the counter the led upstairs. “I actually wanted to ask you something. It’s about a mutual friend.”

Koma stared at him. He kept a fake smile easily in place for the benefit of the customers, who Kaneki sensed did not suspect anything. Hide was sitting at the counter, leaning forward on his elbows and gazing into space somewhere past Koma’s head.

“I see,” Koma said, drumming his hands against the countertop. “Okay, then. I can’t really leave the counter, but I can call someone for you.”

“That’s fine.” Kaneki’s palms were sweating. He could sense the innate distrust in Koma, but he knew that the man was curious. He also knew that he was mildly impressed with Kaneki. He could tell by way he smiled.

Koma made a call quickly with the phone under the counter. Kaneki knew it was to Yoshimura. Irimi probably had the day off, and there was no one else to help except perhaps Yomo. And Kaneki sincerely doubted Koma was calling Yomo.

“Kay,” Koma said, throwing a wary glance Kaneki’s way. “You can go right up. Kaneki, was it?”

This was always difficult. Speaking to someone he knew well, speaking to a friend that he’d known once, but who did not know him in the slightest, was always a struggle. Kaneki had thought Touka would be the hardest. He’d thought speaking to her would feel like hell, like he was screaming and screaming and screaming and forced to scream forever to try and catch her attention, but she’d never hear. That was not the case. Talking to Touka had felt so refreshing, so undeniably nice regardless of the unpleasant conversations, that he just didn’t care about anything else. She did all the screaming for him. And she could scream at him forever, and he’d never love her any less.

But talking to Koma was different. Koma hadn’t been as close to him as Touka had, even if he considered Koma a friend. So now it hurt. Now, speaking with this man who watched him with equal awe and equal caution, Kaneki was filled with something like regret. Like he needed to change more and more and more. Like what he’d had last time hadn’t been enough. He wished he could understand why he hungered for things so petty as simply having _more time_. As though any amount of measurable time could add up to _enough_.

Kaneki was greedy. He would never have enough.

The stairs took him up to the first floor where Yoshimura was waiting with his kind smile. He motioned for Kaneki to follow him up the stairs again.

“You’ve returned,” he remarked in his low, level tone. “I thought you might.”

“I’m sorry.” Kaneki watched the man’s back tiredly. He wanted to hug him. To tell him that he was one of the kindest people he’d ever met, that none of it had been his fault, that he didn’t need to protect Kaneki and put his life and livelihood at risk. But his mouth was dry, and he could only apologize.

“I haven’t a clue why you’re apologizing.” Yoshimura’s steps were even. He ascended with the kind of grace that Kaneki sorely envied, slow and steady and stable. He was a picture of perfect stability, and Kaneki had never had that sort of confidence in him. “You did what you thought was right. I cannot condemn your choice, Kaneki. Especially if you have good intentions at heart.”

“But…” Kaneki watched his own feet as they scraped against the stairs. “Sir, what if my actions end up putting everyone in more danger? Aren’t you scared of that?”

“You are taking an enormous risk,” Yoshimura murmured, “for the benefit of ghouls. I am very scared, I’ll admit that.” He paused at the landing, and he turned to face Kaneki. His expression was somber. “But I am scared solely for you.”

Kaneki took a deep breath. Listening to Yoshimura speak felt like a dream of a dream of a dream. He was another one. He knew exactly what to say. These kinds of people were the ones Kaneki really needed to surround himself with.

“I’ll be okay, I think,” he tried to reassure the old man, rubbing his chin as he glanced up at the ceiling. “I really appreciate your concern, though.”

“Kaneki, what you did for Nishio was more than simply admirable.” Yoshimura’s hand reached out, and Kaneki jumped as he was clapped on the shoulder. “You understand that, don’t you? What you did was bordering heroic.”

“I was only trying to fix a mistake, sir,” Kaneki confessed urgently, feeling that the manager was praising him far too much. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been taken to catch a ghoul I didn’t already know. I probably would have just let the doves kill them.”

“You speak as though you are not one of them,” Yoshimura observed.

Kaneki flushed. He stared up at the man, and he said nothing. Perhaps that was the right answer.

The man began to smile again.

“I can only hope you weren’t followed,” he said.

“I had the day off, so I doubt it.” He didn’t really believe that, but Hide had convinced him that his worries were senseless. And Hide seemed to know everything. Kaneki followed him down the hall. It didn’t take him long to realize they were headed toward Touka’s apartment. “And if I was, Hide can cover for me. He’s good at that.”

Yoshimura’s eyes opened, and he looked down at Kaneki with curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Your friend… does he know?”

Kaneki recollected the stories he’d been told by this man. The stories that had seemed like fairy tales, like nightmares, like urban legends. The story of how the one eyed king had manifested. Because Yoshimura had loved and confided in a human.

“Yes,” Kaneki said, meeting Yoshimura’s gaze sharply. “I hope that won’t be a problem.”

Once again Yoshimura relaxed his expression, keeping it at its most serene. He closed his eyes. “No,” he said with a smile, “he’s far less of a risk than you are, if I may be frank. I’m glad that you were able to be accepted by a human.”

“Hide’s honestly amazing,” Kaneki admitted. “When I told him, he was completely calm. He even offered to figure out something for me for food.” Kaneki shook his head furiously. “Obviously I didn’t take him up on it, but needless to say, you can trust him.”

“That is very good to know.” Yoshimura didn’t let his voice betray his surprise, but Kaneki could sense it. There was sadness in the way he slumped. His body language gave him away, but that was only because Kaneki knew. He knew the tragedy that had befallen him. “That could be very useful in the future.”

“Yeah,” Kaneki gasped, “actually, um, I was thinking. Since I don’t want to attract doves here, I figured if I need to warn you guys about stuff, or something, I could send Hide. And you could send him back to me with a reply. Like a messenger pigeon.”

Yoshimura paused. They had reached Touka’s door. He seemed to be mulling over Kaneki’s words, which made Kaneki nervous, so he just carried on quickly.

“I want to find the time to come here myself,” Kaneki said, feeling guilty for not being clear on his feelings for Anteiku. “But honestly, I’m scared that one of the doves might end up following me here. And the investigator who is my superior, he has unbelievably sharp instincts when it comes to differentiating ghouls from humans. He’d know the moment he walked into this place that it was run by ghouls.”

Yoshimura grimaced. “Yes,” he sighed. “That could cause a problem.”

In his mind he could see doves lining the streets, hundreds of them scattering as they attempted to get a stab at Anteiku. He could see Amon with his fiery eyes and his cold words, and he could feel every insult like a stab in the gut. Amon existed as the face on the back of a coin. He was heads and Kaneki was tails, and neither of them could really see or understand each other, but they knew and accepted that the other was there.

“Yes…” Kaneki swallowed thickly.

Yoshimura placed his hand on Kaneki’s head. Kaneki could only jolt in alarm.

“You shouldn’t worry so much about Anteiku,” the manager told Kaneki gently. “We are quite capable of taking care of ourselves.”

He found himself bowing his head. He hadn’t meant to offend anyone, but he supposed it was only natural that his actions felt unnecessary. They couldn’t know what fate lay ahead of them, what the consequences of his existence would be.

Yoshimura let Kaneki inside of Touka’s apartment. For a moment Kaneki could forget that he was a total stranger to her. Because he was hit with the overwhelming scent of her, an aroma that perpetually hung in the air, intermingling and forming an unmistakable signature. This scent was Touka. It was the heavy musk of ground coffee beans, too strong to mask, but layered with additional perfumes. Coconuts. He was pretty sure that was the smell of the soap she used. Body wash. Lavender. He knew for certain that was the shampoo she used, because whenever he got too close to her, whenever her hair shifted, he always got a noseful of that flowery scent. Sometimes when he thought of Touka, he thought of bushels of lavender. Sea salt. He couldn’t be sure where that scent came from. But it was there. It clung to her. It lingered in the air after she was gone.

Sometimes Kaneki would dream that he’d follow that scent, follow a trail of Touka’s signature until he found himself in a field of rotting flowers with Death at the center. And Death, he held a beautiful, unstable red wing in his right hand. The fiery feathers twitched and guttered and spat. And two blazing shards came sailing toward him, whistling through the air and burrowing themselves inside his eyes in a great explosion of pain, his head, his head, his head, going right through his head.

“Kaneki?”

He found himself in Touka’s room. It surprised him, because he didn’t remember moving beyond Touka’s threshold, but it must have happened. He was staring at Nishiki, their eyes on one another, taking each other in with unreadable expressions.

“You look better,” Kaneki observed.

Nishiki scoffed. He sat up, wincing a bit, and he squinted at Kaneki’s face. “Yeah, so do you,” he said, frowning as his eyes landed on Kaneki’s stomach. “Healed right up, huh?”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kaneki offered sheepishly, “I was in the hospital for two days.”

“They sent you to a hospital?” Nishiki rolled his eyes. He’d been lying on a bed, his glasses off and his eyes tired. He’d probably been sleeping. Kaneki felt mildly guilty for waking him up. “I thought the doves would’ve carved you up for sure.”

“No…” Kaneki glanced at Yoshimura, who stood calmly by the door of Touka’s room. Perhaps he didn’t trust Kaneki as much as he’d let on. “I think they were trying to put me into a medically induced coma, though.”

“Uh, what?” Nishiki’s eyes widened, and fumbled for his glasses. He seemed to be thinking this over, trying to comprehend what that could mean for Kaneki. When he had his glasses on, he stared at Kaneki’s face for a long time. He was likely looking for traces of emotion that might explain how Kaneki felt about this, but Kaneki knew better. There was no emotion to give.

“I’m not stupid, Nishiki,” Kaneki told him quietly. He decided not to meet his eye as he spoke. “I know how dangerous it is to be actively involved with the CCG. But for now, I’m probably more use to them alive than anything else.” He’d thought this over by himself, in the dark, in the lonesome silence of his apartment. He’d made this conclusion a hundred times over. “They don’t like the idea of me, but they’d rather be in control of me than let me slip away. So as long as they can weaponize me, I’ll probably be fine.”

“That’s really not assuring,” Nishiki said flatly, “like, at all. Are you fucking kidding?”

Kaneki averted his eyes. He’d been expecting this. “No,” he said. “I’m serious. I’m probably just going to give the CCG what they want.”

“Then what the fuck is even the point?” Nishiki snapped, jerking to his feet.  “You’re just gonna do what you’re told? Like a goddamn dog?”

“That’s what you’ve been calling me,” Kaneki replied distantly. “Maybe it’d be better to be a dog than a monster.”

“Oh, wow,” Nishiki sneered. “Wow! You know, I thought for a little while that maybe I was wrong about you? But nah, man, you’re just as fucking spineless as I thought!”

“Nishiki,” Yoshimura warned. Kaneki glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He’d nearly forgotten the man was there.

“You can hate me if you want,” Kaneki told Nishiki, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweater. “I ruined your life. It was an accident, but that doesn’t really help anyone. You can’t go back to being the person you were a week ago. You know that, right?”

“Unlike you,” Nishiki spat, throwing a fierce glare from behind the lenses of his glasses, “I’ve been a ghoul all my life. This situation isn’t fucking new.” He stretched his legs out, his head lolling back. He’d slumped in defeat. “You’re lucky, you know, asshole? You have no idea what it’s like to live your whole life knowing you might have to completely erase and reinvent yourself at a moment’s notice.”

Kaneki could only exhale. What Nishiki was saying was completely valid. Because Kaneki had lived a very privileged life up until the day Rize had decided to make him her next victim.

“You should get out of the twentieth ward if you can,” Kaneki said in a clipped, empty voice. He didn’t want Nishiki to know how sad he was. He didn’t want Nishiki to think he cared, because that would honestly just make everything so much worse. “Right now there aren’t many field investigators, but I have a feeling that’ll change soon.”

Nishiki’s jaw clenched, a sign that he wasn’t having any of Kaneki’s shit, but he couldn’t really argue. There was no sense in staying. It was pretty much a death wish to stay. But Kaneki knew he wanted to. He knew exactly what Nishiki was thinking. What about Kimi? Even now, even on the brink of being caught and executed, Nishiki had very little concern for his own safety.

“I may have a job for you, actually,” Yoshimura piped up. Kaneki looked at him, unable to conceal his shock. Nishiki couldn’t possibly work at Anteiku now. Not after the CCG had already exposed him as a ghoul! It was practically suicide.

“Huh?” Nishiki wrinkled his nose. “Are you pulling my leg, old man?”

“I am entirely serious.” Yoshimura was not smiling. His eyes were open, and he watched Nishiki beneath the heavy bags that hung around them. “It may not be a desirable position, but I have made the arrangements. Your freedom would be rather restricted due to your current fugitive status, but you would have a place to stay and a job to do.” Yoshimura sighed, and he closed his eyes solemnly. “For us ghouls, sometimes that is more than enough to keep us moving forward.”

Kaneki could not deny that he was right. After he’d left Anteiku, after he’d been tortured, the only thing that had inspired him to get up out of bed was the thought of finding answers. The thought of enacting vengeance. Becoming stronger. It was truly an impressive force, the thirst for retribution.

“Well, shit…” Nishiki groaned, running his fingers through his hair. There was desperation leaking into his voice, the low drawl of someone realizing he was at the end of his rope. He held his head in both hands, staring, staring, staring past Kaneki and Yoshimura and into a void beyond them. His eyes squeezed shut. He let his hands drop into his lap. “I guess… I don’t really have a choice, huh?”

“You always have a choice, Nishiki,” Yoshimura said. “However, if you decide not to take my offer, we cannot help you any further. You will have to leave.”

“Yeah,” Nishiki muttered. “I haven’t got any choice.”

Yoshimura grimaced. Kaneki didn’t blame him. It was a bad situation no matter how it was sliced. Nishiki would be forced to live a life in hiding.

“You’ll relocate and begin tonight,” Yoshimura said. Kaneki turned away, glancing around Touka’s room. He was trying to seem uninterested, like this didn’t concern him, but it did, and it hurt. It hurt that he’d done this. That it was all his fault. “The man you’ll be staying with is named Yomo Renji. He’s very quiet, but he is the most trustworthy man I know.”

Ah, that made sense! So Nishiki would be going with Yomo to avoid being caught by the CCG. That meant that Nishiki would probably be doing the grunt work of Anteiku. Kaneki did not envy him.

“Okay.” Nishiki sounded a little dead.

The sound of rain made Kaneki’s eyes turn toward the window. It was a calming sound. Soft, distant pattering. Incessant, discordant pressure. He found himself drawn to the window, if only to peer through the distorted glass.

He saw two figures down below.

Suddenly his heart stopped.

Suddenly he was reeling in horror.

Because he knew.

It was all coming back to him. He knew those figures. He knew those backs. He watched the little girl swing her mother’s arm, her fingers laced within hers.

Mrs. Fueguchi held the borrowed umbrella tightly. She must have talked to Yoshimura before Kaneki had came. She’d probably been with Hinami all this time. All this time that Kaneki should have, would have, had been with her.

“Shit,” he exhaled, his palm slapping against the cool glass. His breath hit the window, and a mist of fog blocked the Fueguchis from view. “No, no, no, no…”

“Kaneki?” Yoshimura sounded concerned, but Kaneki couldn’t bring himself to care. He whirled around, kicking off into a sprint.

He said nothing as he bolted out of the room, out of Touka’s apartment, and flew down the stairs. He listened to his feet pound against the steps, frantic and out of rhythm, like his unsteady heartbeat. Panic had settled within him, and he was going to scream.

This couldn’t happen again.

This was something he’d planned to change.

Had he been too lax? Had he just assumed that by joining the CCG he could change such an event in time?

He was such a fucking fool!

“Kaneki?” Hide asked vacantly as Kaneki flung himself through the door beside the counter, skidding across the floor and ignoring the odd looks Anteiku’s customers were giving him. Koma was staring with wide, wary eyes. “Yo, buddy, what’s wrong?”

Kaneki was thinking. He had to think. He had to remember how this had all gone if he wanted to change it.

If he was unable to intercept Mrs. Fueguchi before she ran into Mado and Amon…

“Hide,” Kaneki breathed, his fingers trembling at the handle of the door. He couldn’t look back. He couldn’t look back. This was why he’d chosen this path. This was why he wanted to make a difference. “I’m… about to do something really stupid, I think.”

Hide didn’t respond. The stool at the counter screeched against the floor. Kaneki flung the door open, and he ran. His sneakers splashed against the pavement, chilly rain hitting his face and beating at his back. He was determined now. If he could stop Ryouko and Hinami before the CCG got to them, then this would all be easy. But he knew that there was a chance… because he’d spotted them too late…

He didn’t know what direction to go. He’d lost sight of them. So he just ran. He thought about Hinami, about her swampy eyes, her glistening tears, and he knew he could not abandon that girl, not so long as he lived.

He could hear nothing but his own ragged breath and the crashing of his feet upon the watery ground. Rain spilt into his eyes, and he kept going, his senses spiking as he recollected his own ability. He skidded to a stop, blinking through the sheets of rain, and he saw an awning nearby. He shoved through a small crowd of people and rushed across the street, too fast to be caught by a car rushing by. He listened to the blare of a horn about five seconds after he’d reached the other side of the street.

The awning was slippery, so it was a little wild gaining traction, but getting onto it was pretty easy. He’d just kicked off the side of the building. _I can do this_ , he thought firmly. He jumped, catching a windowsill, and he let himself scale the side of this building, his muscles working themselves to the brink. More than once he nearly slipped. More than once he was chiding himself that he was wasting so much fucking time. More than once he stopped, his breathing erratic and his forehead scraping stone, and he wanted to push off the wet ridges and fall backwards into the street. He’d scaled buildings before. Honestly, this was nothing. He had to tell himself that. That it was nothing. His mind knew what to do. It was just that his body wasn’t used to the strain. That was okay. It was okay.

Because his body would do whatever the fuck he told it to.

When he reached the roof, he sprung into a crouch, his breathing uneven and his eyesight bleary due to rain and sweat. He squinted down into the street, and then moved his head to survey the next street. Then another.

The distant blobs of white set off alarms inside Kaneki’s head. He knew without a doubt that they were doves. Likely, it was Amon and Mado. Even more likely, the beige sheen he saw beneath the mist of rain was Ryouko Fueguchi.

Which meant that little smear fleeing in the opposite direction was Hinami.

“Right,” Kaneki breathed. He pushed off the roof, kicking off the side of the building to slow his crashing fall to the ground. When he neared the pavement, he tucked his body into a ball, shouldering the concrete and halting his landing into a sharp roll. He jumped up to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest, and he sprung right back into a sprint.

If anybody had seen that, it probably didn’t matter. After all, the CCG knew all about him.

The rain was making it difficult to navigate. He knew he would have to turn right soon, but there were little alleys that made him falter. He skidded to a stop as a small girl rushed past him, a blur of white in the grayscale afternoon.

Kaneki turned on his heel, and he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hinami!” he shouted, his voice shattered by the pattering of rain.

She immediately stopped. She rocked in place, swaying dizzily as she turned, her wet face gaping up at him in alarm. Tears and rain soaked her cheeks. She was drenched.

He held up his hands in a form of surrender. Her eyes were glistening, wide and wild from fear and uncertainty, and her little shoulders trembled as he took a small step forward. And then another.

She stepped back.

“Hey,” he gasped, smiling at her gently. “Hey, Hinami, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How do you know my name?” she choked, her hands folding against her chest, her feet backpedaling at an alarming rate. Her shoes scraped the glistening sidewalk, fumbling uselessly and teetering as she stumbled away from him.

Kaneki felt awful. Everything about this made him feel miserable, because she didn’t know him, she didn’t know him at all, and he was so desperate to get to her that he didn’t care about the consequences. He knew her name. He knew everything about her. But she’d never seen him before a day in her life.

“I work at Anteiku,” he said, half a lie, half a wish. “Yoshimura told me—”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. She’d already thrown her arms around him, a sob catching into his sweater. Her tiny fingers dug into his back, and he blinked, catching her gingerly. Her coat and hair were damp, and she was shaking so badly that he thought he might snap one of her bones if he tried to hug her any tighter. He crouched before her so she could bury her face in his shoulder.

“M-my mom—!” Hinami sobbed, her little voice breaking in time with the splash of rain on the sidewalk. “My mom, she— she’s all alone! She’s alone!”

“Shh,” Kaneki murmured, closing his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll go find her.”

“L-let me—!” She pulled back, rubbing her eyes furiously. “I can take you—!”

“No,” Kaneki told her firmly. “You need to go back to Anteiku. Understand?”

She stared up at him, eyes big and round and glistening. Her lips trembled miserably. Then she shook her head. She shook it furiously, releasing him only to ball her hands into fists at her side. Tears streamed down her face, snot dribbling from her nose, but she glared at him through it all.

“No,” she gasped, “no way! I have to go back! I have to help mom!”

“Hinami, listen,” Kaneki murmured. He unzipped his sweater, shrugging it off slowly. He knew he didn’t have much time. “You know what’s happening right? Those guys who stopped you and your mom, they’re doves. If you go back, they might hurt you.”

“You…” She sniffled, eyes flitting across his face bemusedly. “You smell… different.”

“I’m a ghoul who used to be human,” he explained softly, throwing his sweater over her shoulders. “My name is Kaneki Ken. And I’m going to try my hardest to save your mother.”

She stared up at him, her mouth parting in awe. And then, alarmingly, her lips split into a timid smile.

“Okay,” she gasped, nodding firmly. “Okay. I understand. I think…”

Over her head, Kaneki saw something. From behind the wall of a building, a silhouette had appeared. Instinctively, Kaneki drew Hinami closer.

Through the haze of rain, the figure came into clear sight.

Hide’s bleached hair looked almost brown in the rain. Damp and curling in soft waves across his forehead. His eyes were not accusatory or inquisitive. They were simply dull and sad.

It was an odd look for him. Like his happiness and energy had been stripped from him, and Kaneki was staring into his naked soul.

Reluctantly, Kaneki released Hinami.

“Hey,” he gasped, looking down at Hinami and beaming at her, “my friend is gonna take you back to Anteiku, okay?”

“Uh…” Hinami shot a glance at Hide, her tears still leaking onto her cheeks. “Okay… but, Kaneki… you’ll come back, right?”

 _I’m a complete stranger_ , Kaneki thought sadly, _and she already cares way too much about what might happen to me_.

“Don’t worry about me,” he told her with a tiny laugh. “It’s fine. Hide your face, okay?” He yanked his hood up so it covered her face, and a laugh bubbled up from her lips. He stood, and she pushed his hood back to watch him with her keen eyes.

“Hide,” Kaneki said, resting a hand on Hinami’s head. “Can you take care of her for me?”

Hide stared at him. He spared Hinami a quick glance, and he offered her a bright smile. “Hey, there, kiddo,” he gasped. “How old are you?”

She looked at him quizzically. “I’m thirteen,” she said cautiously.

“Oh, what?” Hide smacked his head. “Wow, really? You look so young!”

Kaneki couldn’t see Hinami’s reaction due to his hood covering her face, but he sensed she was flustered. He turned away, making a map in his head from the image he’d seen when he’d scaled that building. If he made the next turn, he’d probably be able to see where Ryouko and the investigators were.

“Hey, Kaneki?” Hide called.

Kaneki turned, glancing at him confusedly.

Hide already had Hinami on his back, her chin resting in his damp blonde hair. He smiled at Kaneki, something sad, something sweet.

“Don’t be too stupid, okay?” He offered his broadest grin. And Kaneki knew what he was asking of him.

_Don’t you dare fucking die, dude._

Kaneki could see it in the glaze of Hide’s eyes.

It was a plea more than anything else.

Because Hide had already figured it all out. Hinami. Ryouko. The CCG. It was pretty much confirmed that Hide had been following Kaneki since he’d left Anteiku, probably out of panic. _Which means he saw me scale that building_ , he thought in horror. But he didn’t have time to lament over his mistake.

He smiled back at Hide, and he nodded firmly.

And then he set off once more.

The wind and the rain and the echo of his feet clapping against the puddles, splashing water into the air, that was all he could hear. When he turned, he found himself running right toward a horror scene. He was sprinting toward the backs of the investigators, his breathing sharp and his eyes narrowing furiously.

He could hear Mado’s voice. It cut right through him.

“You’re a complete idiot, aren’t you?” There was laughter in the mad man’s voice, that sharp chuckle that he always sounded when he was so very fucking amused. “If you had come along obediently, you wouldn’t have had to die in the middle of the street.”

Kaneki breezed past the bureau investigators, Kusaba and Nakajima. They both gave shuddering shouts, and Amon turned sharply. When his eyes met Kaneki’s, they widened considerably. But Kaneki couldn’t care about that. He couldn’t care. He needed to do what he’d promised himself he’d do.

And if he died here… then he supposed everything would be fine.

After all, everything after this… it had just all been his fault.

So if he died here, he would have no regrets.

Maybe this was the reason why he’d gotten this second chance to begin with.

Because when Death had struck him down, he’d had nothing left to him but regrets.

Now, though… Hinami was safe… Hide was with her… Touka wasn’t going to worry about him, or feel guilty… Anteiku would be saved.

He felt content.

“Mado!” Kaneki snarled.

Ryouko was in bad shape. She was bleeding profusely from multiple places, from her glazed eyes and her parted lips and her button nose, and her kagune had wilted at her sides. But her blood encrusted eyelids had snapped open at the sound of his voice. She stared at him. And Mado turned slowly, his head cocking curiously.

“Oh?” He shot Kaneki a smooth, wormy smile. “So you decided to come and watch the show, huh, Ken? Well, you missed most of it.” He lifted his quinque, the one he’d made from Hinami’s father, and Kaneki felt sick. This was his nightmare. Ryouko was living his nightmare.

“Stop.” He marched forward. Amon called after him.

“Kaneki, that woman is dangerous!” Amon’s voice was sharp, stinging with a cool warning.

“Oh,” Kaneki said flatly. He kept moving forward. “Is that why she’s slumped in the middle of the street, bleeding pretty much everywhere?”

“This is a ghoul, Ken,” Mado said, smiling at Kaneki brightly. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we are ghoul investigators. This is our job.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kaneki snapped. “I didn’t realize psychologically torturing someone before you straight up murder them was part of the job description!”

“Kaneki!” Amon’s hands came down, clapping onto Kaneki’s shoulders and dragged him back. Kaneki found himself furious. “Stop. Right now. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, I get it!” Kaneki wrenched himself free, shoving Amon away sharply. “I get that you’re picking off weak ghouls who can’t defend themselves. That’s not even remotely okay.”

“Ghouls are trash, Kaneki,” Amon snapped. “Ghouls are not like you! I don’t care what you’ve come to believe, but you are not a ghoul!”

Kaneki found himself glowering at him. His words had struck him very hard. Because after everything that had happened, even though Kaneki had so very much wanted to be anything but what he was, he didn’t want to go back. He was okay with being a ghoul now. He’d accepted that part of him.

And he didn’t like people telling him what he was and what he was not.

He took three large steps back. He stepped between Ryouko and Mado, who let him do so without so much as a glance. Perhaps he was waiting for the opportunity to use that quinque to slice Kaneki in half.

It wouldn’t happen.

He threw his arms out, his kagune unfurling at his back, slithering around him. He glared at Mado’s sunken face.

“I told you once,” he said in a cold, vicious tone, “and I’ll tell you again. My existence isn’t binary. I won’t choose! I know I’m human. I feel like a human. I have no interest in hunting and killing. But that can’t be solely a human trait! I know that there have to be ghouls who feel the same!”

“You’re speaking nonsense, Ken,” Mado sighed. “Honestly, you should get out of the way. If you do that, I won’t report this.”

“And what will you say, Mado?” Kaneki knew how to act under pressure. And he knew how to pressure others. He lifted his chin, and he tightened his jaw. “Ah. I see. So being a ghoul means I’m nothing more than trash, huh?” His eyes flashed to Amon’s. He could tell his words had struck him, because Amon had stiffened, his mouth opening and closing rapidly. “Okay, then. That’s fine with me. I don’t want to be the exception if it means I have to watch people like me— people who could be me— get slaughtered by you just because you don’t understand them.”

“They eat people, Kaneki!” Amon was pissed. He glared right back at him, his expression twisting into a disgusted sneer. “I told you. You need to watch what you say! You can’t keep defending them like this, it’s not realistic!”

“What has this woman done?” Kaneki snapped. “You can’t prove she’s hurt anyone!”

“She’s a ghoul.” Mado shrugged. “Being a ghoul is, in fact, enough, Ken. You understand? Eating human flesh, regardless of where it comes from, should not be permissible.”

“But I’m allowed to exist?” Kaneki was shaking. Rain trickled down his cheek. “Fuck you, honestly.”

“If you’re asking me to kill you,” Mado chirped gleefully, snapping his quinque like a whip, “I’ll be glad to oblige!”

“Mado,” Amon barked, losing his cool and snapping, “don’t touch him.”

“Amon, you’ve grown too attached to this one.” Mado tutted softly. He shook his head. “He’s obviously too far gone to save.”

“He’s just being compassionate.” Amon had calmed down enough that these words came out very softly. “He didn’t go to the academy. He doesn’t understand. You’ve mistaken his kindness for madness.”

“Ho…?” Mado shot Kaneki a wicked grin, and Kaneki sneered at him in response. “Oh, yes. That is the face of a purely kindhearted man. There is certainly no malice that I can see!”

Kaneki took a deep breath. He understood that he was under certain restrictions now, and that his kagune might not hold up for as long as he needed it. He glanced down at Ryouko, and he smiled at her.

“You should go,” he told her. “You’ve done enough.”

She stared up at him, blood caking her veined cheeks. She matched his smile perfectly, tears welling inside her eyes. Those eyes shifted past him, staring sadly into the space behind his head. She lifted her own head, and she dropped it in a jerky nod.

“I… don’t know who you are,” she whispered, folding her hands into her lap. “And I want to thank you, but… I can’t understand… why you’re helping me.”

Kaneki sighed. He knew this must have been weird for her. “You should really go,” he told her. “Go. Please. Go find your daughter. I can handle this.”

“My…?” Ryouko’s eyes widened. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. Her chapped, blood-stained lips stretched into a thin smile. “Thank you. Thank you…”

Kaneki didn’t understand why she wasn’t running. He frowned, feeling that he must have said something wrong. Maybe she thought he wasn’t strong enough to take them? Well, he didn’t want to hurt them, but if he had to…

He realized where his mistake had fallen.

He’d been looking away for far too long.

A sharp click made him come to his senses. He turned his head sharply, expecting to find Mado bearing down on him with that awful quinque. But both Mado and Amon had moved to the sidelines. Mado was smirking, and Amon… he was watching Kaneki with disappointment in his dark eyes.

Nakajima was the one who stood before him.

Kaneki jerked one limb of his kagune, but the man was smart enough to keep a few meters distance. By the time Kaneki had made his move, a crack of the gunshot rang through the air, muffling even the thunderous patter of rain. He didn’t have the time to dodge, because he’d been so sure. He’d been so sure he could get the gun away in time.

The shot slammed into his abdomen, and he was knocked off his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vindex, vindicis.  
> [adj] avenging. [n] claimant; defender, protector, champion; avenger, punisher.


	8. euge!

Unlike his first imprisonment, his second round at Cochlea was unbearably frightening.

There wasn’t even much change to how he was treated. He was still locked in a solitary room, stripped of a cot and left with a stiff mat that had been stuffed in the corner of the cold, windowless cell. He was still drugged and stolen away at night, leaving gaps in his memory, leaving bruises in the crook of his elbow, and that terrified him more now than ever before. Because he felt like he’d really pissed them off. No one talked to him, told him what was happening outside the bare cement walls, and no one even so much as glanced at him like he had a pulse.

He was not even a prisoner here. He was a lab specimen.

There was no way around this, of course. He’d made himself a threat to the whole fucked up system the CCG had, so he clearly needed to be detained. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known the risk he’d been taking, but part of him had really just hoped that Mado would kill him instead of Ryouko. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he got to live while she… while she’d been _butchered_ …

The RC suppressant had taken a minute to kick in. Kaneki recalled lying flat on his back, the puddle he’d landed in soaking through the cotton fibers of his dark blue shirt, and the vicious ringing of his equilibrium being blown off rattled inside his ears. Rain had gathered on his cheeks, long silver strings connecting the blackened road to the steely heavens. Bullets of cold water caught inside his eyes as the world swam around him, and his limbs turned to blocks of lead.

He felt himself being dragged upright, hands beneath his arms and pulling his limp body backwards. Instinctively, Kaneki had fought the grip, thrusting his elbow back and catching Amon in the collarbone. The man let out a sharp, pained gasp, his grip on Kaneki loosening enough that he could launch himself back into the street, rolling and scraping against the asphalt. He couldn’t properly hold himself upright, no matter how hard he pushed, and he could only lift his upper body a few meager centimeters off the ground.

“That was a little pathetic, Ken,” Mado had told him in a faux sympathetic voice. Kaneki had raised his head, and he could _feel_ his kakugan, the outpour of veins lacing beneath his skin and going taut. He pushed himself shakily to his hands and knees, his vision swimming as he shot Mado the most disgusted, vehement glare he could muster. He could feel his body shuddering, his breath shaky and his mind whirring, ears ringing and pincers clicking, and he bared his teeth. “Oho! What’s that look for? Do you really think you can fight me?”

“You honestly want to try me?” Kaneki’s voice had been thick, and he knew the RC suppressants had been laced with a sedative. He knew. He knew he could not win this fight. But he’d gone on, desperate to fix this one thing, desperate for Ryouko to just fucking run. She didn’t. She was frozen in place, wilted more thoroughly than the crumpled, leathery wings of her kagune that gathered at her sides. She had no will left. She’d already sacrificed herself.

She was already dead.

Mado had turned toward Kaneki. In the daze of his vision, in the shuddering sight that fed into his brain, he saw Mado tighten his grip on his quinque. Kaneki forced himself to sit upright, his glower still going strong, his teeth bare and flashing in the gray slates that poured down upon them.

It hadn’t occurred to Kaneki until it was far too late that Mado was winding back in the wrong direction.

“Wait, no _—_!” Kaneki had lurched forward, nearly diving into the path of the snapping, bone-like quinque, but a pair of arms had snatched him up from behind and yanked him back. Kaneki watched in horror as the spiny whip smashed into Ryouko’s skull, causing it to tear itself unceremoniously from the weak grip her spinal cord seemed to have on it. Blood erupted into the bullets of rain, unstoppable in its quest to stain the street crimson.

Kaneki had heard himself screaming as blood and bits of brain splashed in a burst of warmth across his cheeks.

He didn’t remember much after that.

But he’d woken up on that stiff fucking mat, staring at the slate gray ceiling, and thinking to himself dully, _Why is heaven so damn gray?_

Now he felt like he was losing his grip.

He couldn’t even save Fueguchi Ryouko. How the hell was he going to save Anteiku?

They hadn’t listened to a word he’d said. He might as well be trash, disposable at any given moment! It was hopeless. He’d already lost.

He couldn’t get the CCG to even consider ghoul life to be even remotely valuable. He’d failed.

He was a solid fucking failure.

Training his body didn’t make him feel sane. He did the things he was used to doing, the things he’d mimicked, picked up from Touka, from Tsukiyama, from Yamori, from Rize, from even simple glances at some _shounen_ manga. His memory was sharpening, and his dreams were filled with flashes of what had been, what could be, and it made him wake up screaming, his fingers scraping against his tongue, reaching toward the back of his throat to trigger a useless gag reflex.

He had to puke it up, he had to puke it up, he had to puke it up…

Push ups were nothing. Flips? Holy shit, that was easy! He could only keep on going with this routine, punching the air, balancing on his toes, making shows of things he’d only seen once, twice, thrice… and none of it was of his own design. He didn’t know where he was, but it was not Kaneki Ken making these movements.

He was just going through learned motions. Acting out a role he knew he didn’t fit.

His first visitor came a few days after his initial arrival. He didn’t know how many for sure, which was bad. He’d mapped out the progression of his own story from here, and he was scared. He didn’t know how long he’d be here, and he knew… he knew Touka. He knew what might happen if he didn’t warn her to stand the fuck down.

Anyway, his first visitor arrived with a copy of _The Divine Comedy_. It was slid into a little pocket in the wall which shot over to the other side. Kaneki picked it up gingerly, weighing it in his shackled hands as Amon glowered down at him.

Yep. He was still pissed.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Kaneki blurted, his fingers tightening over the thick, minimalistic red cover. He figured it had all three books inside, which made him slightly giddy. It had been such a genuinely thoughtful gesture, and Kaneki appreciated it more than he could say.

“No.” Amon’s voice was sharp. Biting. He didn’t have any chill to him, not even a little bit. Amon wasn’t like Kaneki in that aspect. Amon was burning with his rage, with his bitter disappointment, and he could have left Kaneki to rot, but instead he’d come and delivered a gift and glared a searing pit into Kaneki’s soul. Amon wanted Kaneki to know how distinctly furious he was. And it really did hurt. “I did not.”

“So…” Kaneki shifted uncomfortably under the furor of Amon’s gaze. “Um… do you… want an apology?”

“How about we start with what you’re apologizing for,” Amon said briskly, laying his hands flat on the shelf connected to the glass that divided them. “Go on. Tell me.”

“Uh…?” Kaneki closed his eyes so Amon wouldn’t see them roll back into his head. “Defending a ghoul? I guess?”

“You _guess_?”

“I don’t really want to apologize for that,” he said vacantly, opening his eyes and shooting Amon a cool stare to match his fiery glare.

“Do you _want_ to be stuck in here forever?” Amon snapped, his thick eyebrows knitting together, wrinkles of confusion and rage lining his forehead beneath his neatly combed bangs. “Listen to me. What you did… it was stupid. Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Kaneki nodded casually, closing his eyes as though he were agreeing with the fairness of the afternoon. He didn’t even know if it was afternoon. The time of day escaped him.

“However, it was really brave.” Amon exhaled sharply. He stared into Kaneki’s eyes, and he shook his head fiercely. “You are a nice kid. You really, genuinely are a nice person, and that’s why I’m so angry. You don’t deserve this.”

“And yet…?” Kaneki cracked a smile, which only made Amon scowl. He let the smile drop, and he sighed guiltily. Damn. “Amon… thank you, but… I’m actually not really all that nice.”

“I’m just going to stop you right there.” Amon held up one hand, his scowl deepening. “Honestly. You’re a little ridiculous. I don’t want to hear about your insecurities right now, Kaneki, they don’t matter. What matters is that you seriously screwed up!”

“I know,” Kaneki sighed. He bowed his head, his grip on the book tightening. He raised his eyes to Amon, and he smiled thinly. “I couldn’t save her.”

“You’re going to rot in here!” Amon’s palm slammed against the shelf. Hard. Kaneki couldn’t help but jump. “You might die!”

Kaneki swallowed back the words that had bubbled up inside his throat.

_I’m already dead._

_I should have died already._

_I should already be dead._

But those words were accompanied by a heartbeat thundering inside his throat, gobbling them all up, and reminding him that he was alive.

“I did what I thought was right,” Kaneki said calmly. “I won’t apologize for that.”

Amon stared at him, his jaw clenching as he searched Kaneki’s face fervently.

“What?” Kaneki leaned forward, peering through the glass and letting his eyes flash wide. “Was I wrong to want to save a defenseless woman?”

“She fought us,” Amon said defensively, shaking his head. “No, she could’ve survived that! But she fought. She was just another stupid ghoul, Kaneki!”

“Ghouls aren’t stupid!” His eyes widened for real, and he could hear the offense taken to his voice. “They’re people! Whether you like it or not, they’re people who think and feel and die just like humans do!”

“And they hunt us for sport.”

“Not all of them!” Kaneki looked down at his wrists, the chains of his cuffs pooling into his lap. “If ghouls were naturally predatory… if they were hunters…” Kaneki looked up suddenly, his eyes widening in alarm. “If they all hunted humans, don’t you think the human race would be extinct by now?”

“What?” Amon asked flatly.

“Think about it!” Kaneki let his hands splay in midair, his voice heightening excitedly. He felt like he’d made a breakthrough. “Ghouls have been around since… well, honestly as long as I can remember, which means it’s probably been decades, centuries… but we don’t know where they come from, so they’re probably an offshoot of our genus, or something.” Kaneki winced, and he smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, science isn’t really my specialty, but you get what I’m saying right? There are obviously some terrible ghouls out there, but you can’t just demonize a whole species.”

“Yes,” Amon said flatly, “I literally can. Ghouls are, quite frankly, demonic.” He was annoyed. Oh shit, was he annoyed, he was just pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw clenched, all rigid and scowling. It would have been funny if Kaneki didn’t feel so strongly, and if he actually didn’t like Amon. “Ghouls eat people. Stop defending them.”

“We don’t exactly have a choice, you know,” Kaneki said coldly. Amon’s eyes didn’t soften like they usually did when Kaneki reminded him that he was, in fact, a ghoul.

“Will swallow your pride for ten seconds and listen to me?” Amon hissed. Kaneki stared at him expectantly. He jerked a finger behind him, pointing directly at the upper left hand corner of the room. Kaneki followed his arm, and saw that there was a camera there. Ah. Shit, right. That could be a real problem. “Everything you say here is going to be taken into account. They might not let you go this time, Kaneki, you might…!” Amon’s voice seemed to die in his throat, his words caught hastily before they could spill out. The effect had been made, however.

“Amon…” Kaneki sighed. He closed his eyes, and he shook his head. “I didn’t come to the CCG to hurt innocent people. And because I’m a ghoul, I know that there is more value to them than just mindless man-eating monsters. Life is not that simple.”

“You value life because you’re human,” Amon insisted. “You care because you are _human_! You are never going to convince anyone that ghouls are anything more than garbage.”

“Then I’m garbage,” Kaneki said coolly. His throat was tight and his hands were shaking and he couldn’t shake the hollowness that swallowed him up inside, the open hole in his chest that devoured all feeling and made him inexplicably numb. He wished he could feel the pain he knew was attacking his senses, beating at his mind, but some part of him must have shut it out for defensive reasons, so now all he felt was perfect emptiness.

“That is not what I’m saying.” Amon was glaring at him furiously, as though that would make Kaneki feel any better about what he was saying.

“I don’t really care, Amon.” His grip tightened on the crimson hardcover of _The Divine Comedy_ , his knuckles white as he tried to force the shaking to stop. “Thank you for the book, but you probably have a lot of work to do. You should go.”

Amon actually look hurt. Maybe he was shocked that Kaneki, who’d been trapped in isolation for days, was kicking him out of prison. Or maybe Amon just was one of those people who actually cared. Cared too much, in fact. Amon had a terrible habit of wearing his emotions on his sleeve when they became a bit too strong, and Kaneki knew that this had truly wounded not his ego, but his heart. It was likely that Amon had come prepared to argue all day until Kaneki relented, and Amon could run back to whoever the hell was in charge and happily declare Kaneki desensitized.

“Fine,” Amon said briskly. He stood up from his chair, turning away from Kaneki sharply. “I’ll be back.”

Kaneki was surprised. Amon actually wanted to come back to visit him again? Was he fucking joking?

“Yeah? And what if I don’t want you to come?” Kaneki snapped.

Chill. Real chill.

Amon stopped at the door, his eyes flashing heatedly.

“You won’t have much of a choice, will you?” he snapped right back.

They were acting like children. They were disputing like angry little kids. And, Kaneki supposed, that was a normal thing. Normalcy didn’t come easy, but with Amon, Kaneki felt enough at ease that he could enjoy this banter. The shitty thing was, this wasn’t harmless. He was really angry at Amon, and Amon was really angry at him, but did that mean they had to stop being friends?

It was weird. What kind of friendship could ignore such blatant bigotry?

But Amon was gone now, and Kaneki was escorted back to his cell without another word. A guard had torn _The Divine Comedy_ from his grasp, shoving Kaneki back into his room and letting the door slide shut without so much as an explanation. It made him overwhelmingly sad, but that sadness would not spill into the hollowness of his chest cavity, so he was left with the stinging effect of tears in his eyes, the vicious thoughts of loathing and disgust thrashing his brain, but no real comfort in the tears, no real emotion seeping through the barrier.

He was just fucking empty.

This wasn’t new. This was, in fact, old news.

This was how things had felt after he’d been tortured.

He remembered. Touka had been hurt. That had made him so fucking angry, so fucking disgusted and enraged, but… but those feelings had not truly reached his heart. Even after, even when she’d begun joking and smiling and offering out her hand, expecting him to come along obediently, he’d felt nothing. It had been almost too easy to just abandon her there.

Abandon. That was a good word for it.

He’d just fucking abandoned Touka. Like she’d been a scrap of trash, or something.

Touka cared so fucking much… and he cared so fucking little… and it just never added up. It wasn’t fair. Nothing could work, not when they were both two vicious extremes circling on another, passion and passivity pushing and pulling each other apart.

It wasn’t fair.

Eventually the book had been returned to him, so Kaneki assumed it had been checked for like, weapons or something. It made sense, but it didn’t make him any less bitter.

Thinking about Touka made him scared. He couldn’t explain it, the simultaneous throttle of sadness and fear and disgust, so fucking dulled by the layer upon layer of carefully applied hollowness that it only made him feel like his mind was leaking out of his ears. This kind of emptiness could drive a man insane.

In fact, it probably already had.

Reading _Inferno_ didn’t help. It made Kaneki feel like he was the one in hell.

And maybe he was.

Time was falling past him, and he was losing track of it rapidly. He did exercises, slept, drank the fucking concoction they gave him, let himself be picked and prodded at under a curtain of anesthesia, and he read Dante’s ornate poem until his eyes burned from exhaustion. And then it all repeated.

* * *

Well. It was hopeless. She’d really fucked up this time.

Her scuffed black shoes scraped against the pale brick, her bag swinging at her side as she came up to Anteiku, thinking bitterly about classical literature and just the all around bogus shit that it revolved around. She paused, reeling back for a moment as she noted the sign on the door had been flipped to CLOSED. Well, that was fucking weird. Was today supposed to be her day off? She couldn’t even remember, her brain was so fried after that goddamn fucking test.

“Good morning,” she called dulling, shouldering Anteiku’s door open, her hands stuffed in her sweater pockets.

“Touka.”

She glanced at the counter, and she relaxed. Yoshimura was standing there, and it made her stomach tie into an anxious knot, because she had to admit to her failure. God damn it.

“Ah, sir, you’re here after all,” she said, gesturing vaguely behind her. “The sign’s flipped the wrong way.” She shook her head, kicking the door closed behind her. “More importantly, just listen to this! I failed my test.” She could hear the _ba-dum-tis_ of an imaginary drum that signified that her life was a joke.

“Touka…” Yoshimura sighed, and in that soft, resigned voice she could hear his age crinkling through him. “Could you come upstairs with me?”

The knot of anxiety that had appeared after she’d gotten her shitty test back intensified into something like a pit of snakes twisting and writhing around inside her stomach. She could feel the shakiness of her smile as she tilted her head.

“Uh… sure?” she offered, watching him move around the counter and to the stairs. She followed him slowly, wary of the situation. Was this about that asshole, Nishiki? The arrangement hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected, but she’d been gone for a few days, deciding to stay with Yoriko and suffer through the meals as they studied for exams. She just couldn’t take Nishiki being there as she stressed out, pouring over notes and textbooks and shit. He’d just make fun of her, or call her stupid.

Yoshimura led her to the room where they’d all met to discuss Nishiki. Koma and Irimi were sitting down, watching her with the most uncomfortably defeated expressions, while Yomo stood with his arms folded, glancing at her with his usual inscrutable gaze. Beside him, fucking Nishiki was leaning against the wall, wearing a black trenchcoat similar to Yomo’s, but more attune to the asshole’s fashion sense. He’d cut his hair since the last time she’d seen him, buzzing an undercut beneath smooth, bleached white curls. He kind of looked like he’d stepped out of a western film about a pop punk bounty hunter or something. He’d probably look really cool if it wasn’t fucking Nishiki.

“You look like a fucking nerd,” Touka told him blankly.

“Oh, shit,” Nishiki said dryly, clapping a hand over his heart. “I’m hit. I’m gonna die. Your shitty ass personality has drained me of life.”

“Why the fuck is this nerd here?” Touka snapped, jerking a thumb at Nishiki furiously. Her eyes were on Irimi and Koma, and then she noticed that there was another face watching her vacantly. Unruly blonde waves that didn’t reach the dark roots, irritatingly bright brown eyes, and an unnerving little smile that set her teeth on edge. She exhaled sharply, and she turned her attention from Nishiki to him. “You. Oh my god. Boss!” She wheeled around to look at Yoshimura desperately. “What the fuck is going on? Why is a customer here?”

“Nice to see you too, Touka,” the boy chirped. Ugh, his voice was so grating, too! _Touka-chan_! He said it was a weird sing-song lilt. She’d forgotten his name, because he’d been kinda irrelevant, so she’d taken to just thinking of him as Loud Flirt. He was so obnoxious. She’d wanted to punch him a thousand times, but she was just plain old good at her job, and she prided herself on good customer service.

“I’m out,” she muttered, turning toward the door. Yoshimura caught her by the arm, and she groaned. She returned to her place with a scowl.

“I’ve never seen you look so miserable, Touka,” Loud Flirt said softly, hanging over the back of the couch to stare at her. “Aw, even your pout is cute!”

“I’m not pouting,” she sneered at him. “Look, no offense, but why the hell are you fucking here?”

Loud Flirt’s face softened a bit, and he offered a meager shrug.

The room had become uncomfortably silent.

Touka realized how heavy the atmosphere was. Nishiki had lowered his head, not really looking at her, and Koma and Irimi had also averted their eyes sharply. Yomo jerked his face sharply away so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. Only the Loud Flirt held her gaze, and even then his eyes had become muddy and distant.

“Did something happen…?” She wanted to take a step back and flee. Yomo’s presence had set off alarms in her head. Yomo didn’t like to show up. She didn’t know why. Maybe it cramped his loner style.

Beside her, Yoshimura lowered his head. It was a sign of reverence. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Mrs. Fueguchi…” he began in a low, throaty voice, “was… killed by the ghoul investigators.”

Touka’s entire body went rigid as though she’d been submerged in a bathtub full of ice. That writhing snake pit of anxiety that had built up inside her stomach seemed to explode, sending angry vipers to slither and snap, worming through her insides and attacking her vitals. She wanted to explode too.

“It seems… she was protecting Hinami.”

Touka couldn’t take it. She listened to her molars clench together, and her hands became fists at her sides.

She slammed her fist into the wall, listening to the resounding crash, reveling in the vibrations that danced through the bones of her arm and settled in pinpricks around her shoulder. She was already exploding. She was a fucking bomb that went off periodically. There was no real stopping it.

“Ryouko…” she exhaled shakily, her entire body hyped up on her rage like it was a fucking drug, one of those pricey mind-melting things that lowlife humans salivated over. Her head was hazy and her heart was palpitating. “Where’s Hinami?”

“She’s asleep inside.”

Touka couldn’t even feel relieved. She was disgusted.

“And her face?” she whispered. “Did they see it?”

Yomo was quiet. Yoshimura was quiet. They were all so fucking quiet.

 _Fuck_ , Touka thought in shock, _fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking _—__!

“Unfortunately… it seems she wasn’t able to deal with it…”

“Fuck…” Touka exhaled, lowering herself into a crouch as the shock battled her rage, sapping her of her energy. “What the fuck…?” She closed her eyes, listening to her heart pounding inside her ears. “This is the worst…”

“For now I have decided to shelter Hinami at Anteiku…” Yoshimura sounded sad, but calm. She sorely envied his composure. “When the time is right, I am considering sending her to the twenty fourth ward…”

Her entire body went rigid, shock pulsing through her like lightning before dissipating in favor of her every winning rage.

“Is that a joke, manager?” she shrieked, springing to her feet and shooting him the nastiest fucking glare. “There’s no way Hinami can live alone in that shithole! We should just kill the doves!”

“Touka.”

Her eyes flashed to the Flirt’s face. She’d forgotten he was even there.

It occurred to her that she’d just really, really, _really_ fucked up.

In her shock, in her fear, in her utter rage, she found herself approaching him. He was human. She could smell it on him, the distinctness of something meant to be prey. A human boy couldn’t be here. He couldn’t know that they were ghouls.

He had to die.

“Touka, no!” Koma gasped. She knew her eyes had turned black, and she could feel her kagune itching be released. Suddenly she was grabbed by the arm. She shot a fierce glower up at Yomo, her nostrils flaring in disgust.

“Hey.” The boy was calling out to her in a soft voice, and her reddened eyes slid toward him, flashing beneath her heavily veined lids. “I know you want to kill me, but I would really advise against it.”

“Who the fuck are you?” she snarled.

“Nagachika Hide,” he reminded her gently. “I’m a very human friend of Kaneki Ken. I hope you remember him?”

She grimaced. “That asshole?” she muttered, her shoulders squaring. Yeah, she remembered that guy. He’d refused to fight her, and he’d been such an entitled shithead. She wanted to send his scrawny ass back to hell. Then she realized. “That asshole is a dove!” She looked up at Yomo with wide eyes. “Don’t tell me… don’t tell me he’s the one who _—_!”

“You’re jumping to some pretty harsh conclusions,” Hide cooed.

“You,” she snapped at him, pointing at him and sneering. “You shut the fuck up!”

“Touka,” Yoshimura said softly. “Kaneki has been captured by the ghoul investigators.”

“What?” She yanked her arm away from Yomo, whirling to face Yoshimura. “Excuse me? How can he be captured by the doves when he is a dove?”

“I saw a good portion of it,” Koma admitted, bowing his head. “I… I wish I could have done more for Kaneki and Ryouko, but honestly, I didn’t expect those doves to hurt one of their own.”

Hurt…?

The immensity of the guilt that spread through her suddenly could not be quelled. It was so strong that it suffocated the flames of her fury. Her kakugan dissipated, and her kagune no longer stirred beneath her skin, and she felt herself sinking into the shock of it all.

“That guy…” she said distantly, “was hurt…?”

Hide was watching her dully. His arms hung limply over the back of the couch, and he lowered his chin against it.

“After Hide brought Hinami back to Anteiku,” Koma said cautiously, his eyes lowered at his hands, “he asked me to make sure Kaneki was okay, because he’d said that he was going to do something stupid. By the time I got there, I could only really hide in an alley and watch Kaneki try and defend Mrs. Fueguchi from the doves.”

“Well he obviously didn’t try hard enough,” Touka whispered bitterly.

“Kaneki was shot with an RC suppressant,” Hide told her in a bored tone. “You might not know what that is, so let me explain. RC suppressants make it temporarily impossible for ghouls to manifest their kagune or heal from the damage done to them. From what Koma told me, I suspect the bullet contained not only an RC suppressant, but some kind of heavy duty sedative, because immediately Kaneki was pretty much incapacitated.”

Touka swallowed hard. The guilt wouldn’t go away. She was shocked, and she was scared, and most of all she was angry at herself for being so fucking judgmental.

“How do you know shit like that…?” she asked, suspicion dripping into her voice.

Hide watched her, his eyes heavily lidded, and she watched him hide a smile into the leather back of the couch. “I did my research,” he replied, sounding painfully earnest. Yet, for some reason, she didn’t believe him.

“I don’t believe this…” Touka clapped her hand over her forehead, gritting her teeth in frustration.

“Neither do I,” Hide said brightly. He lifted his head, and he shrugged. “I can’t really believe Kaneki’s this stupid. Because now he’s in jail, right?” Hide laughed. It was a bitter sound. “And one of the investigators who works with Kaneki came ringing me up, telling me that I had to convince Kaneki to stop defending ghouls or else he’d die.”

“You didn’t tell us that, Nagachika,” Nishiki said sharply.

“It didn’t seem important, Nishio,” Hide said faintly, glancing at the asshole innocently. “I can’t convince Kaneki to do anything, so there was no point.”

“Would you try to convince him, though?” Irimi asked coolly.

Hide glanced back at her. His eyebrows had raised significantly. “Miss Irimi, Kaneki is my best friend. And I don’t want him to hate me. So no. I wouldn’t try, even if it meant I was saving his life.” Hide sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and standing up. “Okay, I know this is weird for you guys. You’re not used to trusting humans, right? But I won’t sell any of you out, and I’m going to stick around here, because Kaneki told me to take care of Hinami, and at this point it’s all I can do to help him, I think.”

“Kaneki doesn’t even know Hinami,” Touka hissed. “He doesn’t know any of us! Why?” She glared at Hide, feeling so disgusted with herself that she could vomit. “Why does he care?”

“I don’t know, Touka,” Hide told her gently. “He just does.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“I don’t really know him,” Koma said, leaning back in his seat, “but I know for sure that I’d trust that guy. You didn’t see him, Touka. He was ready to die to save Ryouko. He gave her a chance to run, and she didn’t. Don’t blame him for this.”

She exhaled, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she could clock this stupid boy in the face so she’d stop feeling guilty about what had happened. It wasn’t fair. If she’d been here… if she’d gone to see what had happened instead of Koma, maybe Ryouko would still alive, and maybe Kaneki would still be here. And maybe he could be working at Anteiku, since he clearly cared about the place so fucking much.

“You’re right,” Touka muttered through gritted teeth. “I shouldn’t blame Kaneki. It’s the fucking doves’ fault!”

No one said anything. Hide merely closed his eyes, Yomo was watching her with his usual unreadable face, and Nishiki nodded. That annoyed her the most, honestly.

“We should kill them all,” she declared.

Hide laughed. She looked at him sharply, a growl starting at the back of her throat. He threw his hands up defensively.

“Ah, sorry!” he smiled sheepishly. “It’s just, you really aren’t what I expected!”

“What do you mean?” she snapped. “You’re shocked that I’m not the shy, jittery idiot I pretend to be downstairs so you keep giving Anteiku money?”

“No, I knew that was an act.” Hide’s expression was soft, and Touka found herself increasingly put off by this boy. He was almost frightening charismatic. She hated that. “I’m just surprised. You’re really quite bloodthirsty, aren’t you, Touka?”

Her eyes narrowed at him, and her nails dug into her palms, tight enough to draw blood at any given moment.

“I could literally eat you for fucking breakfast, you piece of shit,” Touka spat at him. “Stop patronizing me!”

“Wow…” Hide’s eyes widened. And then he beamed at her, leaning forward excitedly. “Touka, you really are scary! If you yelled at Kaneki like that he’d probably piss his pants, ha ha!”

“I’m fucking out of here,” Touka growled, turning away and marching past Yoshimura.

As she stalked down the hall, she heard Hide’s bright, obnoxiously loud voice.

“I think she handled that really well!”

She really hated this guy.

* * *

“You look tired,” Kaneki remarked.

Amon hadn’t spoken for the duration of his time sitting across from Kaneki. It had been nearly ten minutes of silence, which hadn’t really bothered Kaneki much because he’d intended on giving Amon the silent treatment, but this was pretty worrying at best. Amon was acting strangely. His fire wasn’t gone, but it seemed like it had been redirected. He was furious, and he was determined, and he wasn’t really all there.

“Are you talking to me now?” Amon asked dully.

“Well,” Kaneki sighed, “you know, I’ve been locked in here for about a week… and to be honest, Amon, being stuck in isolation does things to your head. Talking to you is better than nothing, I guess.”

Amon nodded curtly. “That’s fair,” he said. “However, you’re still stuck in here indefinitely.”

“I figured.” Kaneki closed his eyes, and he shifted his chains thoughtfully. “I finished _The Divine Comedy_.”

“All of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Amon really did sound distant. It was troubling, to say the least, and Kaneki wondered if he’d even answer if asked what was wrong. “I’ll bring you another book next time.”

“That’s not really necessary…” Kaneki felt guilty for the first book anyway. Even though he actually really did want another book to read, because now he felt his emptiness more than ever before, and it was making him jittery, making him skitter and jitter and choke. He could hear pincers clicking in his ears more often than not.

“I’ll bring you another one as soon as I can.” Amon wasn’t looking at him. He was looking over a case file.

Kaneki leaned forward curiously, his nose nearly brushing the dividing glass. “You guys busy without me?” he joked. It was in poor taste, he knew, because he’d done this to himself.

“There’s been a lot of ghoul activity in the twentieth ward,” Amon admitted, never looking up. “Since the Binge Eater is dead, courtesy of your unfortunate date, that’s definitely one dangerous ghoul off the list. But more and more ghouls are showing up. First there was that college student who attacked you, Nishio Nishiki. He’s probably long gone, judging by how thoroughly he’d infiltrated human society. He’s clearly very intelligent. Then there was that mother ghoul you were defending for God knows whatever reason. Her daughter hasn’t been caught yet, unfortunately, and we haven’t uncovered any leads. Mado said to ask you, since you mentioned her to the mother ghoul.” Amon raised his eyes at this. “I told him even if you knew something, you’d never tell me.”

Kaneki almost smiled. He grimaced instead. “You’d be right,” he said.

“Uh huh.” Amon looked to be clinging to his composure by a thread. He’d rolled his eyes very subtly. “Anyway, there’s also the Gourmet.”

Fuck. Kaneki had twitched at that. Amon had noticed, raising his eyes and watching him suspiciously. Honestly. Fucking Tsukiyama.

“Do you know anything about him?” Amon asked calmly.

“Unfortunately,” Kaneki said in a cool voice, “I’m not actually the reigning supreme ghoul encyclopedia.”

“You flinched when I said Gourmet.”

“I did not?”

“Yeah you did.” Amon rested his hand on top of his files. “Listen. If you cooperate, they might let you go.”

“Why do you care so much if I rot in here or not?” Kaneki murmured.

“Because you don’t deserve this!” Amon’s voice raised, and that fire had returned full force. “Cochlea is a place where ghouls with valuable information are kept. It’s for the scum of the earth! Where ghouls suffer solitude in payment for their crimes!”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Kaneki whispered.

“Exactly.” Amon exhaled sharply, his body relaxing a bit. “This isn’t justice. This is cruelty.”

“But only when it’s me, right?” Kaneki said flatly. “Only when it’s a former human.”

“You’re still human.”

Kaneki couldn’t deny that, he supposed. So he smiled, and he leaned back in his seat. “I’ve heard about Gourmet,” he admitted.

“Oh?” Amon’s eyes narrowed. “From who?”

“No offense, but you guys leak information to the public all the time.” He was trying to think of an explanation really fast. “Anyway, Hide said something about it. I wouldn’t bother asking him, though, he probably knows less than you do.”

“Ah. Right. Nagachika.” Amon nodded, and Kaneki was relieved. “That makes sense. He clearly enjoys research.”

“How do you know that?”

Amon glanced at him. He gave a meager smile. “He asked me if I was named after Amon Ra, Amon of Judah, or Ammon the demon.”

“Oh. Yeah, sometimes he just knows weird stuff like that…”

“Has he come to visit you?” Amon was trying to sound casual, but Kaneki could hear an odd strain in his voice.

“No.” Kaneki didn’t feel bitter. He’d actually just assumed that Hide wouldn’t even be allowed in to see him. “It’s not really surprising.”

Amon didn’t say anything else. He merely looked back at his ghoul files, and he sighed. “Other than the Gourmet,” he continued on, “there’s the Rabbit.”

Kaneki was careful not to give any clear reaction to that. Even though he was inwardly panicking.

Damn it, Touka.

“The Rabbit?” he asked in his most curious little voice.

“An ukaku type ghoul with a rabbit mask attacked two investigators recently,” Amon said flatly. “They succeeded in killing Kusaba Ippei.”

“Kusaba…” Kaneki remembered him. He’d been there when Ryouko had been killed. Oh, he remembered all of it now. This was when Touka had come to work with the bleeding arm.

 _If you died, Touka, I would probably be… sad_.

He closed his eyes. That had been a different life. He wasn’t there to tell her such things now. Because it was different now anyway. He wouldn’t just be sad if Touka died. He’d be utterly shattered.

“We suspect they're connected to the mother and daughter ghouls.” Amon tapped his finger against the file, watching Kaneki with a sharp gaze. “If you have any information regarding any of them, you should tell me. Then you’ll be free.”

“That sucks.” Kaneki made a whining sound, leaning back in his seat and jingling his chains. “I can’t tell you anything if I don’t know anything, Amon.”

“I see.” Amon nodded. This time, Kaneki couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. “Fine, then. But, Kaneki, I really would be more concerned if I were you.”

“About the Rabbit ghoul?”

“No,” Amon said quietly, staring into Kaneki’s eyes. “About what the CCG plans on doing with you.”

“I’m still an important resource to them, right?” Kaneki smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Amon. I’m not going to die just yet.”

“But what happens when you’re not longer important?” Amon shook his head. “No. You need to reconcile with the CCG as soon as possible, Kaneki.”

“That doesn’t sound easy.”

“It might be,” Amon sighed, “if you just would listen to me.”

Kaneki didn’t respond.

Because the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Amon was probably right about something. His pride was what was keeping him locked in Cochlea.

Even after Amon left, that fact haunted him. Because Touka had made her presence known to the CCG, and that meant… that meant that Mado would find her. Somehow. Some way. And Amon would be with him.

And if Amon was with him, then Touka did not stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> euge or eugepae [interj].  
> terrific!


	9. repercussa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT it's been a long time! sorry about that, guys. i just don't have the free time i did in the summer? the good news is i'm basically done with my other fics, so updates should get more regular within the next few chapters. i don't think i can do weekly updates because of school and stuff, but i'll try my best!

He'd tied together at some point that the only way Touka would face off against Mado was if she planted that fake evidence at the CCG. Kaneki had been there the first time, but his presence had not been crucial to the event. It was likely Touka would go to the CCG by herself to buy Hinami time. Either way, Kaneki's own time was already running out.

And at this point, he was beginning to panic.

He regretted it. Not listening to Amon when he'd had the chance. He couldn't get a hold of any guards to announce that he wanted to negotiate terms and get the fuck out of here. The only time he was ever graced with human presence was when he was too drugged to think cohesively or use his tongue to communicate. So all in all, he was trapped.

His life was just waiting for Amon to show up again so Kaneki could admit he was wrong. It had only taken a day of pondering to make Kaneki crack. The horror of Touka being stuck fighting both Amon and Mado while protecting Hinami was just too heavy. Kaneki would swallow his pride to prevent it from happening.

Finally Kaneki was dragged out of his cell again, shackled and plopped in that uncomfortable plastic chair and forced to stare through the dividing glass. He'd been under the assumption that Amon had come again, which he'd mentally prepared himself for, but he'd been wrong.

"Mr. Shinohara…" Kaneki's hands clenched in his lap, wringing anxiously as the man watched him with a mix of disappointment and pity.

"Hello, Kaneki." Shinohara folded his hands on the shelf before him, straightening up. "You look surprised."

"I wasn't expecting you," Kaneki admitted, panic flooding him. If Shinohara was here, what did that mean? Were Amon and Mado busy with…?

"Considering the twentieth ward's increasing spike in activity, Amon couldn't make it here." Shinohara grimaced. "I doubt Mado has ever visited. Is that a correct assumption?"

This was all so bizarre. Even as Kaneki nodded, he felt like he was in a dream.

"Well," Shinohara continued with a shrug, "nothing to worry about. The twentieth ward is pretty short on field investigators, so Amon and Mado are doing double the work they'd do at headquarters."

"I see…" Kaneki sunk into his seat, anxiety only worsening as it whittled him away. He had to hurry. He had to swallow his pride and make a move. "Mr. Shinohara… are you disappointed in me for trying to save a ghoul?"

Shinohara watched him in an odd way, similar to how Amon had kept glancing at him in his past visits. There was no questioning it, no matter how Shinohara answered. He was clearly disappointed.

"I don't know you very well, Kaneki," Shinohara said thoughtfully, his expression softening. "And of course you know me even less. But I can tell that you're an idealist, so I guess it was only a matter of time before this happened."

Kaneki wasn't given any relief because of Shinohara's kind words. It only made him more anxious, really. Because he still had to convince Shinohara to let him out of this place. He had to fix this. He had to do something right!

"Is there any way I can convince you to let me out of here?" he asked, feeling his distanced emotions only pushing back more and more.

"I would if I could, Kaneki," Shinohara sighed, averting his gaze sharply. "I'm sorry, but you've been deemed a legitimate threat. I'm not sure if the CCG will ever forgive you for what you did."

"I didn't hurt anyone, though!" Kaneki found himself jumping to his feet. That didn't do enough to even surprise Shinohara, who sat placidly behind the glass. "I didn't even attack Mado! I just was trying to…"

"Protect a ghoul." Shinohara closed his eyes. "Kaneki, you really need to understand that as a ghoul investigator and a ghoul yourself, defending another ghoul is enough to warrant this kind of punishment. You should have realized that."

"I knew the risk I was taking," Kaneki said heatedly, his wrists snapping against the chain of his shackles. "But I thought you were going to  _kill_  me! If I had known this would be my punishment, maybe I wouldn't have done it!"

"That's a lie," Shinohara said calmly.

"Well, who cares?" Kaneki clenched his fists, and he glowered at his feet. "Mr. Shinohara, what can I say to fix this?"

"It's not that simple."

"It has to be!" Kaneki was growing frantic. His panic was getting the better of him, and he looked desperately down at the man, lurching closer to the glass and watching him with a helpless gaze. "I'm sorry. I messed up, and I know it. What can I do to fix this?"

Shinohara watched him sadly. He exhaled, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and he gestured at Kaneki offhandedly. "Sit down, Kaneki. You're getting way too worked up. Take a deep breath, okay?"

He found his face burning in embarrassment, his mouth falling open as he tried to think of an excuse for his overwhelming displays of emotion. But there were no excuses. How could there be? So he sat back down, his head bowed in shame, and he realized that he might have truly fucked himself over for good.

"From what I understand, you're being kept here for observational purposes." Shinohara gave a little grimace, and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Whatever the hell that means. Anyway, they won't kill you. I've heard rumors that you're involved in some huge project authorized by the highest rung."

"Project?" Kaneki repeated flatly. "Excuse me?"

Shinohara looked at him sharply, and he leaned back. "Oh, damn," he said. "Are you not even aware of it?" His eyes widened considerably. "What the hell…?"

"What project?" Kaneki asked quickly, resting his hands on the shelf and leaning forward desperately. "Mr. Shinohara, are they doing something to me?"

"No one knows the details, Kaneki, it's just a rumor." Shinohara winced. "I probably shouldn't have even said anything. I don't want to make you any more worried than you are already. The point is, the CCG hasn't just abandoned you."

"And performing experiments on me is any better?" Kaneki muttered, his bitterness clear as he sunk into his seat.

"Now you're just jumping to conclusions," Shinohara said in a soft, distant tone of remorse. He seemed to feel guilty. Perhaps for letting his tongue slip, and information to leak out. Perhaps because he really was a good guy, and he really did care about Kaneki. It didn't matter at this point.

"I'm scared," Kaneki admitted. "Is that wrong?"

"It's only natural."

"So why did it end up like this?" Kaneki rubbed his face in his bound hands, his shoulders rolling. "I don't think it's fair."

"I told you your life was going to be difficult now, Kaneki," Shinohara said quietly.

Kaneki shot him a weary glare. The man only watched him, his hands folded before him and his head bowed.

"Difficult…" Kaneki's hands clenched in his lap. "I don't think that begins to cut it, Mr. Shinohara."

"I'll try my best to get you out of here," Shinohara said, shaking his head. "But I can't promise anything. You're being held accountable for your actions, and no one can stop that no matter their rank." Shinohara seemed to pause to think about that for a bit. "Except maybe the Washuus. So unless you happen to have some secret connection with them…"

"Wash-who?" Kaneki laughed weakly.

"Exactly."

When Shinohara left, Kaneki only felt more despair encroaching on the barest slivers of hope he still grasped. Amon had warned him that he was going to rot in Cochlea because of his goddamn pride. And now Kaneki was panicking, because what if he was right? What if it was already too late to change anything, and he'd doomed himself and everyone else?

He didn't want to die in here.

Being a prisoner was so mentally trying. He was getting himself so worked up that he felt physically ill, perpetually stuck in a state of whirring nausea. This was not unusual. Kaneki often had anxiety attacks of a similar vein, crippling waves of panic washing over him and causing him to lose the ability to differentiate physical and mental discomfort. It all blurred together in a wicked cocktail of  _what ifs_  and _what must bes_.

He didn't want to die.

He kept forgetting.

Wasn't he already dead?

What if none of this was real?

What if this was all some twisted version of hell?

 _What can I do_ , he thought wildly, time passing like a snail inching its way across a lone rock stranded amidst a toiling ocean,  _what can I do? What can I do to repent? How can I ascend from hell to purgatory?_

He was losing his mind.

What was left of it, anyway.

The dreams were getting worse, too.

More vivid.

More real.

He checked his mouth every time he woke, swabbing the inside of his cheeks with his index finger for blood. He was overwhelmed by the thoughts of what  _had_  been, what  _will_  be, and he feared for the future as he feared the future's past. The fear was only gaining more traction. It fed on his inability to hold on to reality.

Visions swam in his head of a smiling face, the air tasting of blood and rot, and the smile didn't go away even as the tastes became ungodly sweet and made him shudder from disgust and pleasure. He didn't know if this was real or not and it drove him mad, mad, mad with guilt and horror and self-loathing. Why? Why did this happen? Why did it have to happen? Would it happen? Had it even happened?

Who could say?

Rize? Yamori? Kaneki?

He should enjoy it. Right? Just enjoy it, enjoy the way the blood poured down his throat, hot and so temptingly savory, saccharine in all the right ways, and it just made her  _shiver_  with anticipation, because after all it was only some dumb little boy who should've known better, right? Anyway, she— they— he— should have made a better meal out of what had been, what might've been.

Yes. He should have made it last. He should have done more than just taste. He should have given his fingers a good cracking and broken the fool's legs. He could have asked with cold ease, "What did your efforts amount to, anyway?" That was so simple. Zero. Zero, zero, zero! And once the taunting settled, that was when the real torture began. Eat the eyes first so the brat could only hear the horror, the chilly words, the whispered insults, the unrelenting laughter, the gnashing of teeth and the tearing of flesh and screams rattling in the air.

And whose screams were they, anyway?

Who was he, anyway?

What did he feel, anyway?

What did his efforts amount to, anyway?

Anyway… his next visitor caught him by surprise.

He was probably a little too unhinged for this one, but he couldn't exactly do anything about it. He felt a mixture of delight and utter panic when he stepped into the usual interrogation room and glanced at the boy sitting behind the dividing glass.

"Hide!" Kaneki nearly stepped back in alarm. In his excitement, he also felt the urge to rush forward, to grin and laugh and maybe even cry. But his thoughts were all behind him, and there were too many personalities cramping the space that was his brain.

"'Sup, dude." Hide was smiling lazily, his elbows resting on the supporting shelf and his fingers twiddling at the foam of his headphones. "You look like hell."

"I feel like hell," he admitted, taking a tentative step forward. He halted, the chains of his cuffs rattling from the abrupt stop. "How did you get the clearance to visit me?"

"I was let in," Hide said vacantly, resting his cheek upon his fist. "No one asked me any questions."

 _That's a little strange_ , Kaneki thought. He didn't want to question his good luck, though.

"It's good to see you," he said, nearing the dividing glass. Hide smiled, and he closed his eyes.

"I wish I could say the same, but…" He offered a shrug. "I'm trying that whole confrontation thing. Frankly, I'm a little pissed."

"You understand why I did what I did, right?"

"Sure." Hide opened his eyes, and Kaneki saw how genuine he looked. He smiled, and there was still light in his gaze. Somehow. "I'm not surprised, or anything, just pissed off. I just can't shake this thought, that maybe you want to die or something."

Kaneki couldn't even deny that. He tried to smile, but he knew Hide had seen right through him. There was no avoiding it.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's fine, bro." Hide laughed easily. "Like I said, I'm not surprised. So how's Cochlea treating you?"

"Bad."

Hide straightened up. He seemed to suddenly be on the defensive. "Are they doing anything to you?" he asked hesitantly.

"I don't know." He was being honest. He couldn't say what went on at night when the anesthesia kicked in. "Maybe they are, or maybe I'm just going completely insane. I don't know, Hide."

"Shit…" Hide laughed. He gave a small, nervous chuckle, his eyes darting away from Kaneki's face. "That's not good."

"I'm losing hope that I'll ever get out of here," Kaneki sighed.

Hide glanced at him sharply. "Don't say that…" he murmured.

"It's the truth." Kaneki watched him. His eyes darted to the camera in the corner. Hide followed his gaze, turning around to glance up at it. Kaneki didn't have the opportunity to do anything in Cochlea, but Hide… Hide could be his chance. Now how to actually tell him…

"That camera isn't manned," Hide piped up. Kaneki looked at him bemusedly. Hide gave a sheepish little smile, scratching the back of his head. "All the guards are on the floor right now. Listen, tell me what you have to now. Don't worry about the camera."

"But…" Kaneki glanced at it worriedly.

"I'll take care of it," Hide swore. He leaned forward, his eyes bright. "Just tell me."

Kaneki was jittery with nerves, his eyes widening as he tried to formulate the words. He was scared. How could Hide get away with this? How could anything work out from here on out? If Kaneki was caught giving out this information, he could kiss freedom goodbye for sure.

"Kaneki, I'm serious." Hide watched him, his own eyes going wide. "I need you to trust me, okay? No one is going to hear what you tell me."

Trust. That was key, wasn't it? Kaneki hadn't trusted anyone to help him before, when he'd been Centipede. Not even Banjou and Hinami could be trusted in full. Yeah, he didn't even want to think about Tsukiyama, he wouldn't trust that guy with a pet rock. He'd probably throw it in a river under the impression that stone skipping was an impressive skill. So it'd been awhile since he'd really trusted anyone with something this important.

He took a deep breath.

"Touka and Hinami are in danger," he said, his voice quiet. Hide stared at him. He nodded curtly, a signal for Kaneki to continue. "Mado and Amon are planning on luring Hinami out with one of her mother's limbs—"

"What?" Hide's face twisted in disgust. "What the fuck? That's sick! What kind of cruel bastard does that to a child?"

"The kind that doesn't believe she's a real child." Kaneki glanced nervously at the camera. "The CCG is basically just brimming with people who don't consider ghouls to be people. They're just monstrous vermin to investigators. So Mado feels pretty much guiltless for tormenting a kid if the kid's a ghoul."

Hide exhaled sharply. "Okay," he said calmly. "So what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know when it's going to happen," Kaneki said, wringing his hands. "Because of that, I can't give you any direct details. But if Hinami goes missing, you need to go to the river by Kasahara elementary school. You won't be able to stop Touka… honestly, don't even let Touka know you're there, she might hurt you. What you need to do is keep Amon from the river."

"Amon." Hide's eyes narrowed. "Okay, I was following, but now I'm not. Shouldn't I try and keep both of them away?"

"You'll never convince Mado of anything," Kaneki sighed. "His instincts are way too good. I know it's risky, but one investigator is better than two, and at least with Amon distracted Touka and Hinami have a chance to escape."

"Okay…" Hide looked down at his lap. There was a steady silence that hung like a noose around Kaneki's neck, threatening to choke the life out of him. He had difficulty drawing breaths.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, pressing both hands to the dividing glass, leaning forward desperately. "I'm so sorry for throwing this on you, Hide. It's a lot of pressure, I know, but-"

"Nah, don't worry, buddy." Hide winked, and he grinned. "I've got this."

Kaneki was at a loss for words. "But…"

"I told you to trust me, didn't I?" Hide huffed. "Yeesh! Can you chill? I said I've got this, and I meant it. Just sit tight. I'll save Hina and Touka, and then you'll be out of here in no time!"

"That's way too much optimism!" Kaneki blurted, his lips quirking into a sad smile.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Hide snorted, and he tipped his chair back precariously. "I'm the finest optimist in the whole of Tokyo. Nothing can rain on my parade!"

"Unbelievable…" Kaneki slouched in his seat, his eyes wide and his mouth parted in awe.

"That's right, that's right, soak it in." Hide waved his hands in a swift cylindrical motion, like a conductor motioning for an instrument to begin playing. "This is what your pessimism has made me. I'm completely Kaneki proof! Your teen angst is super ineffective!"

"Um, okay," Kaneki said flatly. "It's not teen angst, asshole."

"It's kinda teen angst?"

"No? It's really not?" Kaneki flushed, and he scowled. "Stop twisting things!"

"Chill," Hide drawled, his chair clapping back onto the ground. "I'm just fucking with you. Anyway, you'll be out of here soon, so hold tight, kay?"

"Hide…" Kaneki sighed. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and he shook his head. "Listen, I… I don't know when I'll be getting out. If ever."

Hide sighed. "Kaneki…" He looked at him sharply. "You  _will_  get out of here."

"You can't know that for sure."

"Don't you trust me?" Hide asked in a strangely demanding voice. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes flashed.

"Well… yes, but—"

"Then do me a favor," he said, smiling thinly. "Stop being such a pessimist. You're gonna get frown lines. You'll go prematurely gray. Just do us both a favor and quit stressing out so much. I can take things from here, so relax for a few days." He stood up, bumping his fist against the glass. "I'm gonna take care of this for you. And when you get out of here, you're gonna stop screwing around and get the CCG to see ghouls as useful assets, and not irredeemable monsters made to paint targets onto."

Kaneki could only sit, stunned into silence. He couldn't smile, or nod, or even look away from Hide as he gave a mock salute and turned away.

"Catch you later, then," Hide chirped. He paused by the door, and he turned around. "I forgot. The reason I came here is because Amon thought that maybe I could convince you to stop defending ghouls."

"That sure worked out," Kaneki said dryly.

"I never said I intended on doing it," Hide laughed. "Anyway, I'll see you soon."

"Okay…" Kaneki watched Hide leave, and he had to wonder.

Just what the fuck was Hide even thinking?

* * *

Exhaustion had settled in on her as she leaned on Nishiki for support. He was all but dragging her toward the end of their trek back home, her feet tangling together as the pain in her side steadily increased. She could deal with the pain. It'd heal. She just kept telling herself that, like she could keep moving forward, because if she told herself that she could do it, then it had to be true, right?

"Oh how the tables have turned," Nishiki teased her as they came around the back of Anteiku. She glared at him fiercely. "A few weeks ago I was the one bleeding profusely, desperate for help. Should I take a picture? I want to remember the day you admitted to needing a hand."

"Shut the fuck up," Touka snapped, shoving him away and stumbling back, a shock of agony shuddering through her abdomen. The pain was mostly in her side, but it had spread rapidly to envelope the nerves running above the muscle lacing her ribs. She couldn't help but buckle, her arm caving in to press against the open wound, pain causing her knees to wobble and her teeth to grit. She would not cry. She would not cry. Not in front of Hinami.

Hinami wasn't even looking at her.

Her face was buried in Yomo's shoulder. Her arms were tight around his neck. Touka took a deep breath. It had been worth it. She couldn't feel guilty now.

She was a killer.

This was what killers did.

Lock up all their remorse inside and swallow the key. Compartmentalize. There was no guilt for the monstrous.

"Come on." Nishiki glanced back at her, his eyes dull beneath his glasses. In the dimly lit alley, his bleached white hair looked silvery. He never said anything, but she could tell that the transition back into obscurity was tough on him. Still, it didn't give him an excuse to be even more of an ass than he already was. "Yo. Touka. Gimme your arm, stupid."

"I can walk by myself, shitty Nishiki," she sneered, elbowing past him and following Yomo into the back door. She tightened her arm around her side, breathing in deeply and feeling sweat prickle the back of her neck. She was feeling a little cold.

She forced herself to move forward in spite of the searing pain, her feet scraping across the wood floor, blood pooling into her hand. The light was on in the shop. She jerked to a stop, a wave of wooziness falling upon her. She crashed into the counter for support, her breath labored as she stared at the boy sitting next to the shaded window.

"Hide…?" Hinami lifted her head curiously, rubbing her eyes as she peered down at him. Touka was shaking. She didn't know if it was from rage, or if it was from the unbearable pain of walking for so long with such a grievous wound. She could only clench her side and stare at the smiling boy with wide eyes. Fuck. What the fuck? What had she fucking done to deserve this bullshit? "Hide… Hide's bleeding…?"

Touka looked at Hinami sharply. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tilted back toward the ceiling, her matted brown hair falling limply into the air away from her face. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply.

"Why is Hide bleeding?" she asked in a tremulous voice. Her eyes snapped open, and she twisted to look at Touka wildly. "Sis, we have to help him!"

"I'm fine, Hina," Hide gasped, laughing sheepishly and waving his hands wildly. "Honest! It looks like Touka is the one who needs help."

"Yeah, I need some fucking help," Touka snapped. "Nishiki! Help me rip this guy's trachea out!"

"Bitch, chill." Nishiki swatted the back of her head. "Nagachika's cool, remember? God, you're such a pain."

Touka growled, her face burning with heat in spite of the overwhelming chill that had enveloped her body. When Yomo moved aside to set Hinami down on a chair, she noticed that Hide's leg was being elevated, a reddened bandage wrapped around his calf. She found herself backtracking in guilt, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize, so she simply glowered.

"What the hell even happened to you?"

Hide smiled big, though Touka knew enough about pain to sense the strain there, and he averted his gaze. "Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "it's actually a funny story…!"

Touka watched him expectantly. She nearly leapt out of her skin as a voice rumbled from behind her.

"You might as well enlighten us while Touka's wounds are tended to, Nagachika," Yoshimura said, placing a hand gingerly on Touka's shoulder. She relaxed, and she glanced up at him weakly. Without any much of a choice, she leaned against him and allowed him to lead her to a chair.

"Uh…" Hide whistled lowly. "Wow. Where do I begin? I guess I should start with Kaneki."

Hinami looked up with her swollen red eyes, her lips parting. "Kaneki," she repeated distantly. "He saved me. Hide!" Hinami slipped into the chair beside Hide, leaning very close to him. Touka's jaw clenched. _Hide-onii-chan_. What the fuck was that about? "Is Kaneki okay? Is he still a prisoner? Can't we help him?"

"I'm working on it, Hina, I swear," Hide gasped, waving his hands furiously in front of her face. His voice went up an octave when he said her name.  _Hina-chan_. This was all so… annoying. "Now that this is over with, it might be easier to get him out. I'm kinda putting my stock in a gamble, but I think it'll be fine."

"What do you plan on doing?" Nishiki asked with a snort. "You gonna break him out? You? Measly human, Nagachika Hideyoshi?"

"It'd take a whole lot of manpower to break into Cochlea, let alone break a prisoner  _out_." Hide looked uncharacteristically serious, his mouth dropping into his folded hands. "Frankly, I didn't even consider it because this place just isn't that strong." He paused, and he glanced around at them, barking a hearty laugh. "Ah! No offense!"

"Offense taken, jackass," Touka told him coldly.

"Please be a little more considerate toward Nagachika, Touka," Yoshimura said as he sat down beside her setting a roll of gauze aside and unbuttoning his sleeves. "After all, he may have just saved your life."

" _Excuse_  me?" she hissed, her arms pressing hard into her side. "This scrawny little shit? What the hell are you saying, boss?"

Yoshimura rolled up his sleeves, and Touka scowled at him. Then, with a huff, she shrugged off her bloodied sweater and grimaced at the sight of the sticky burgundy stain that had formed just above her hip. Gross.

"I didn't fight anyone," Hide piped up. Touka glared at him. He merely ignored it. "Like I was saying, this is about Kaneki. I went to visit him, and he told me about Mado's plan to trap Hina." He shrugged.

"How would he know something like that?" Yomo asked. Touka had almost forgotten he was there. She half unbuttoned her shirt up to her lower chest, peeling back the stained fabric from the gaping, tattered flesh wound, and she hissed.

"Hell if I know," Hide scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "I don't ask Kaneki too many questions, okay? It makes him close up, and frankly I'm not too keen on making him stop talking to me."

"It's not like any of us know actually him." If she sounded bitter, it was simply because she was. She was super bitter. Like, who the fuck did this kid think he was? Both of these kids? These assholes just wouldn't leave Anteiku alone. What was up with that?

"I know he kinda has been keeping his distance," Hide said, "but he honestly loves this place. I don't know why, but he's really determined to protect it, so cut him some slack. He just cares too much, Touka."

"How annoying," she muttered as she tied the lower half of her ruined shirt off behind her back, blood dripping against the dip of her spine. She appreciated that neither Nishiki nor Hide were taking advantage of this sight to make some gross joke at her expense. They were lucky. She would have murdered them.

"Kaneki seems like a good person," Hinami said quietly. She bowed her head, her thin shoulders trembling. "Hide… if Kaneki is a dove… and he's such a good person… then why are the other doves so bad?"

Hide stared down at her. Touka watched him, noting how all joy and humor had vanished from his face. He was looking at Hinami with genuine uncertainty, his mind clearly working to formulate a reply that would be suitable for Hinami's currently delicate emotional state. Yoshimura dabbed at Touka's wound, and she hissed, shrinking back.

"It's not so much that doves are bad," Hide said cautiously. Touka threw him another dirty look, which he promptly ignored. "See, doves… ghoul investigators, they… they are practically programmed to think of ghouls as just an infestation of deadly vermin. They're prejudiced. Ignorant. They lash out at what scares them, at what they can't explain, and refuse to accept that their preconceived notions might be wrong." Hide lowered his eyes toward his lap. "They've always been like that."

"Holy shit, will you get to the point already?" Touka was gritting her teeth. Less because of Hide and more because of the pain she was in. It'd heal soon enough, but for right now it hurt like a fucking bitch, and she just wanted to lie down and sleep.

"I knew about the trap, but when I tried to warn you, Yoshimura told me Hinami had already gone missing." Hide shook his head in disbelief. "I was cutting it real close, right?"

"So…?" Touka glanced at Hide's injured leg as she raised her arm, allowing Yoshimura to wrap the gauze around the bandage he'd applied. She looked closer, tipping her chin down and attempting not to move her body. Her eyes narrowed. "Is that bloodstain the shape of  _bite marks_?"

"Oh shit," Nishiki muttered. "Plot twist."

"No way!" Hinami gasped, grasping Hide's arm and looking up at him with tears swimming in her swollen, bloodshot eyes. "Who did it? No, no, no." Hinami shook her head fiercely. She straightened up in her chair, tears suddenly flowing freely down her face. "Nobody is going to hurt Hide. Big Sis and I won't let any other ghouls near him!"

"I'm doing what now, Hina?" Touka asked in a thin little voice.

"We're going to protect Big Brother Hide!" she declared in a tremulous voice. Touka couldn't even object. Hinami was shaking too badly, and it was clear that she was very serious. Hide looked half delighted by her declaration, but mostly he looked guilty. That was new. She'd never seen that shit eater look anything but self-congratulatory before.

"Okay, Hinami," Touka said gently. "We'll protect him."

"Um, actually," Hide said sheepishly, "this was self inflicted. But I really appreciate the sentiment!"

"How the hell did you bite your own leg like that, man?" Nishiki asked. He sounded weirdly impressed.

"I didn't." Hide winced, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay, so I used to hang out in the art room a lot back when I was in high school. I wasn't an artist or anything, but I did learn a few things."

"Are you telling me that's fake blood? Because it sure smells a whole lot like real blood." Touka hissed, holding the gauze wrapped around her lower abdomen close to her as Yoshimura taped the bandage into place. It was really uncomfortable but she'd be able to remove it in a few hours.

"No, I didn't have time to make realistic looking fake blood," Hide said with a sigh. "Nah, I just mean, I got pretty handy with an x-acto knife. Boom. Perfectly placed shallow bite marks."

"That's ridiculous," Touka told him sharply. "What the hell is wrong with you? First of all I don't know how that fooled anyone!"

"There was a lot of blood, so Amon wasn't really looking at the actual puncture wounds," Hide explained. "Which is pretty lucky, because I started to kinda lose it from the pain near the end, and my hand wasn't steady enough to keep in the lines I traced."

"Second of all," she snapped, jumping up in spite of the blazing pain. "You're insane! Why would you put yourself through that for a bunch of ghouls? You don't belong here! You have no reason to be here!"

"Do you want me to leave?" Hide asked. He looked at her, and his eyes were tired.

"That's not what I said!" She took a deep breath, brushing her sweaty hair out of her eye. "Damn it, you really are stupid. I don't care what you do, but you shouldn't have hurt yourself for our sake. It was  _our_ problem, not yours! We didn't ask for your help, so next time don't be offering up any of your fucking limbs just so you can play hero!"

"Touka is right." Yomo looked down at Hide, whose eyes had widened considerably. Even Touka was surprised. Yomo was agreeing with her about something she was clearly just ranting about for the sake of yelling. She was genuinely thankful toward Hide for what he'd done, but she was so pissed at him for hurting himself that it just negated the whole damn thing. "Hide, you are in danger so long as you choose to be around us. We can't subject you to that."

"I did this to myself," Hide objected.

"Why?" Yomo demanded.

Hide stared at him. "I…" He winced. "I didn't know how else to lure Amon away from the river."

"How did you tell him you got away from this made up ghoul?" Yomo asked in a dull voice.

"I said they got into a fight with another ghoul over me," Hide replied calmly. "Amon bought it, and he helped me get to higher ground. Once he did that, he waited with me while I called my emergency line, which… usually is Kaneki, but under these circumstances I chose Anteiku. No one picked up, so I tried a few more times, and by then Amon was getting antsy and he said he had to go. I couldn't really stop him, but I figured I'd wasted just enough time, hopefully. Which!" He flung out his hands at Touka and smiled big. "Tada! It worked. You're alive. You're totally welcome."

"Thank you, Hide," Hinami gasped.

"He didn't even do anything," Touka muttered, falling back into her chair. Pain danced up her side, and she clenched her fists.

"Hide," Yoshimura said suddenly, standing up. They all turned their attention to him, as subjects might fall mute upon the sight of their king. "What Yomo said is true. You face many dangers by choosing to be here, because you, unlike Kaneki, are purely human. But I do not wish to condemn you for that. In fact, if you are willing to put yourself at such extreme risk, I'd rather embrace it. As Hinami said, when it comes to protecting you, we might be the most qualified for the job." He smiled down at them warmly. And then his smile dampened. "That said, I am worried about Kaneki. He's been locked up quite a while, don't you think?"

"Kaneki's strong," Hide insisted. "He'll manage. And like I said, he'll be out soon."

"You sound so sure," Touka said coolly.

Hide only smiled at her in response.

* * *

After Hide's visit, Kaneki was even  _more_  anxious. If that was even fucking possible. He kept up his workout, feeling that he simply wasn't strong enough yet, and that kept his mind busy for a little while but it was never enough. He wasn't strong enough. This body was overwhelmingly weak, and the shit they were feeding him wouldn't do a thing to help him get stronger.

Should he cannibalize again?

That would require getting out of this goddamn cell. He was pretty sure he was constantly drugged up on RC suppressants anyway, so the consistent working out was really putting a strain on his muscles. He was so exhausted, but he was also just so fucking bored.

Hide didn't come visit him again.

Kaneki was beginning to panic.

 _What have I done_ , he thought wildly.  _He's probably dead. He probably got killed by some ghoul while trying to help me. Touka and Hinami are probably dead too. Oh god. Oh god, oh god, what have I done…?_

It was going to kill him. The guilt. The anxiety. He'd done this. He'd ruined everything.

Why was everything wrong all his goddamn fault?

He didn't even know how to prepare himself for the defeat. His friends could be dead. Because he'd gone and fucked everything up. Amazing. Truly, just fucking amazing.

It'd been about a week since Hide had visited him. Kaneki didn't know what to do. He couldn't ask anyone anything, and he was still stuck, locked inside a tiny cell, feeling claustrophobic and isolated, his mind turning to mush as dreams clawed into him and peeled his muscle from his bones.

When would this torment end?

How did one keep sane when the days all blurred and the dreams were devouring the mind and the mind was incapable of differentiating reality and a nonexistent past?

There were other people inside his head whispering lies, and he couldn't puzzle out the truth. He just wasn't that smart.

He just wasn't that strong.

When his door slammed open, he'd been crouched in the corner of his cell, watching his hands and daydreaming up the details of a former life. He imagined looking down at his fingernails and finding them ugly, uneven, discolored, and revolting. Black and yellow swollen beneath the clear shell, blood congealed and sealed underneath.

He didn't look up when the door slammed. He only really began to care that he was being called upon when a familiar scent hit his nose.

"You're actually allowed in here," he murmured, dragging his thumb along the side of his index finger and then roughly applying pressure to the second joint until it  _cracked_ , "Amon?"

"Get up."

Kaneki didn't want to. He glanced upward, his head bowed, and his eyes meeting Amon's. The man looked very irritated. Exhausted and lost and maybe even disheveled. Kaneki saw that his eyes were red-rimmed. He smiled.

"Has my time finally come?" he asked, showing his teeth. He shifted his legs so one knee dropped against the floor while he left the other propped up. He offered out his bare wrists toward the giant man. "Let's get it over with."

"Cut the crap, Kaneki," Amon sighed, striding up to him and nudging the bare sole of Kaneki's foot with his shoe. "Get up. You're free, okay?"

A shudder ran through him, and his fake little smile of spite fell away. He stared up at Amon with wide eyes, and he lowered his hands, feeling nothing but coldness dripping through his chest and into the pit of his stomach.

"For real…?" he whispered, his eyes darting toward the door.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Amon was clearly not in the mood to fuck around. He wasn't going to respond to Kaneki with any sort of explanation, so it was probably best to give up trying. "Let's go. I don't want to hit rush hour."

Kaneki found himself rising to his feet uncertainly, following Amon out of the cell and feeling at a sudden loss the moment his feet passed the threshold. He was leaving that cell for good. Shouldn't he be feeling… happier?

No. That'd make too much sense.

He walked slowly, watching Amon's back as he listened to his bare feet pad against the cool linoleum floor. Cochlea was just was unbearably bright and white as the 20th Ward's branch headquarters. His eyes were stinging from the sight, and his heart was thudding hard from the sudden adrenaline rush. Freedom.

Should freedom feel more rewarding?

He just felt empty.

Guards were eying him suspiciously. He supposed it was a curious sight. A ghoul trailing calmly behind a Rank 1 investigator, his head high and his eyes sharp. He knew he was probably giving off bad vibes. He knew his own effect on people.

"Can I ask," Kaneki said, speeding up his stride so he was nearly beside Amon, "why now?"

"Does it matter?"

"You said I was going to rot in here," he said coolly. "Yeah. It kind of matters, Amon."

Amon shot him a glower, his dark eyes narrowing down at Kaneki's face. "I don't know," he replied in the same chilly tone.

Well. That got him nowhere.

"How can you not know?" Kaneki snapped.

"Calm down." Amon grabbed him by the upper arm and gripped it tightly, applying enough pressure to make Kaneki wince. "Right now, you're nothing but a human boy, no stronger than an average high school student, so don't start acting so commanding. You're still just a Rank 3 investigator, you know."

"Oh, am I still an investigator?" Kaneki's eyebrows raised quizzically. "I wasn't sure. Considering how rock solid my punishment seemed to be, I thought I was fired for sure."

"You may be freed from Cochlea," Amon told him staidly, "but don't think you have the luxury of escaping the CCG. They won't let you out of their grasp now that you've proven to be useful."

"Am I useful?" Kaneki asked thoughtfully. "Could've fooled me."

"Someone higher up most have gotten their hands on the report I filed about Nishio." Amon rolled his eyes. "The fact that you can control your kagune with such precision overruled your inefficiency in combat."

"So I'm back in the arsenal, huh?" Kaneki sighed. "Well, that's better than this place, at least."

"Your proficiency with your kagune is actually probably the only reason why you were let out," Amon admitted as they entered an elevator. The doors slid closed, and Kaneki watched the silvery reflection, a distortion akin to a funhouse mirror.

"Glad to hear it's good for something," Kaneki said bitterly.

Amon glanced at him, though Kaneki didn't bother to look at him to see how he was being looked at. He figured Amon was in a shitty mood, so it'd be a shitty look anyway.

"I'm sorry."

Oh. Well, fuck.

Kaneki looked up at Amon in alarm, his mouth falling open. Amon had a solemn look upon his face, his lips pulled back into a grimace. Up close, it was clear that he had dark circles beneath his swollen lower lids.

Mado was definitely dead.

Somehow, that didn't make Kaneki happy.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked quietly, guilt squirming into his gut.  _I was the one who killed your partne_ _r_ , he thought dully.  _Even if Touka dealt the final blow, it was me. I made it happen. I wanted it to happen. I had the intent to kill, and I acted on that intent. That is murder_.

Yes, that was right. He was the murderer. Touka, his weapon. Hide, his accomplice. Hinami, his accessory.

Murderer.

 _Don't make me a killer_.

Hadn't he said that to this man?

_Don't make me a killer!_

Too little, too late.

A killer he was, a killer he would be.

"You were locked in here for a while." Amon looked down, clearly conflicted. "I'm still angry with you. I think what you did was stupid, and you still need to learn that ghouls are garbage. But it was an honest mistake, I think. You learned your lesson, and you shouldn't have been here for as long as you were. I'm sorry it's taken so long for your release."

Kaneki's guilt was getting the better of him. He wanted to scream. This man wouldn't understand, couldn't understand, and it was all wrong. It was wrong, wrong, wrong!

"I wish I could make you understand," Kaneki whispered.

"You don't regret it at all, do you?" Amon asked him bitterly. He shot Kaneki a glance. And then he snorted. "Of course. Why did I think any different? You're pretty damn dangerous, Kaneki Ken."

"I want to make you understand." Kaneki's hands closed into fists at his side. "Amon, this world is wrong. Isn't it?"

Amon's eyes widened. Of course he couldn't disagree. Kaneki had stolen those words right off his tongue.

"Yes," he agreed somberly.

"Some ghouls are garbage, like you said." Kaneki watched the elevator doors slide open. "However, humans are just the same. In the history of the human race, how many serial killers have popped up? How many humans murder humans for less valid reasons than ghouls? When a ghoul kills a human, usually it's because they have no other choice, right? They didn't choose to become a ghoul. But humans kill other humans out of their own volition. Their own vices, their own sickness." Sickness. That wasn't solely a human attribute either. Even ghouls had mental illnesses. Even ghouls succumbed to the existential rot of depression. "Humans can be monsters too."

Amon stood, staring out the open elevator doors in silence. His jaw was clenched and his brow was furrowed, and Kaneki wondered what he was thinking.

"Humans like that are locked away or killed," Amon said quietly. "As ghouls are."

"You think justice is that fair?" Kaneki was surprised. He let his surprise seep into his tone to the point where he sounded almost sarcastic. "How idealistic of you, Amon."

"What are you saying?" Amon looked back at him sharply. "Of course I believe in justice."

"I'm not asking what you believe in, I'm asking if you think justice is fair in this world." Kaneki brushed past him, moving out of the elevator and turning on his heels to face him. "News flash! It's not. This world has never been fair. Humans are nasty creatures, just like ghouls. We are responsible for atrocities unlike any ever seen in history. We start wars we can't end, and the innocent suffer for our crimes. Where's your justice then?"

Amon stood, tight lipped and glowering. He didn't seem to know how to respond.

"Ghouls aren't like humans, Kaneki," he said quietly.

"You're right," Kaneki said. He smiled, and he offered a meager little shrug. "Humans are like ghouls."

Amon's nostrils flared, and he stepped out of the elevator, his chin lifting high so he could glare down at him. "You have no idea what ghouls are capable of," he said coldly. He marched past Kaneki, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "Enough. I don't want to argue about this any longer. I value you as a friend, Kaneki, and I've already lost enough friends."

Kaneki paused. "Ah…" He glanced over his shoulder at Amon's back. "I'm sorry, Amon. Did…" Kaneki swallowed hard as he turned around. "Did something happen?"

Amon stopped. He stood for a few moments, staring ahead of him at the front doors of Cochlea. His shoulders slumped, and his body seemed to fall into a lapse of numbness.

"Mado is dead," he said in a clipped voice. "The daughter ghoul a killed him about a week ago."

It was a relief to hear it confirmed, but the guilt inside Kaneki's stomach knotted tighter. The daughter ghoul. So they thought Hinami killed him? She'd never be safe.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki repeated. It sounded so dead, so empty, but he could tell that Amon was in such a bad place that he wouldn't even notice or care. That, in Kaneki's opinion, was the saddest part of all of this.

Amon took a deep breath. He turned around, and he glared at Kaneki.

"Stop underestimating ghouls," he snapped. "Stop arguing about it! You aren't important or special, Kaneki. You're replaceable, just like any other soldier, so stop playing the activist and keep your mouth shut!"

"I won't censor my feelings for the CCG's benefit," Kaneki said firmly.

"You need to listen." Amon clenched his fist, bringing it to his lips and glaring away from Kaneki's face as if looking at him was just too painful. "Damn it. Why are you so much trouble? Nobody actually cares if you care about a ghoul's feelings or not, Kaneki. The more you yell about it, the more suspicious people will be, and the more likely you'll wind up in this place again." He gestured vaguely around him at the wonderful inner decor of Cochlea's front desk. The receptionist was sitting there with a puzzled look on his face.

"Well maybe the CCG should be going after actually dangerous ghouls, then?" Kaneki shrugged. "Just saying. Um, anyway, didn't you want to stop arguing about this?"

"You need to understand," Amon sighed. "You're… you're not that important anymore, Kaneki. You're not safe."

"I've never been safe," he said calmly.

"No." Amon stared at Kaneki, his eyes widening. " _You_   _ **don't**_   _understand_." He enunciated each word like he was spitting in Kaneki's face.

The door opened behind him, a heavy breath of air and a breeze from the chilly November afternoon slipping into the room.

"Mr. Koutarou?" a timid voice called from the door. "I heard you yelling. Is everything okay?"

Kaneki looked past Amon's shoulder, and he found himself freezing up in horror. His body had stiffened in shock, his mouth falling open as he backpedaled rapidly.

Because the boy at the door was his mirror image.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> repercussus, repercussa, repercussum [adj].  
> rebounding; reflected, reflecting; echoed, echoing.


	10. chiliarchus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. i really wasn't expecting the reception of last chapter to be what it was. like, i knew i'd get a reaction because i'm used to writing plot twists, but it was honestly above and beyond anything i could have predicted. which... i feel guilty about, because i feel like you guys were misled. i'm glad you had fun trying to guess who the "mirror image" was (some of you did! some of you even did and then read the comments and got the wrong idea, which. i'm so sorry.). however it wasn't sasaki or a clone or a clone named sasaki. i'm so amazed that was the majority there. i was like "what?? CLONES?? where would i even go from there?? omg how.." 
> 
> like i was so baffled! i couldn't figure out how a clone would make sense! i mean i understand that my actual explanation is a bit of a stretch because of the time constraints, but i didn't put that much thought in when planning. i wanted to understand, but all i could really come up with was "well my writing was really vague so people would understandably jump to weird conclusions." i'm still learning that plot twists that i thought were obvious (i did foreshadow this i swear, look back at touka's tea cup dream) aren't really. to anyone else. and that's my fault, i forget that i have a weird perspective as the writer. oh, and this isn't even me being salty about this, i just feel bad because so many people jumped onto the "clone sasaki" train and i just really hope you aren't disappointed. because this chapter is where the story really starts.
> 
> i just want to give everyone a heads up, my next update might end up falling near midterms, so if i don't update for awhile it's because school. don't worry. anyway, enjoy!

Granted, there were some big differences.

For one thing, this boy was plainly shorter than Kaneki. His face was about as round and youthful as Kaneki's was (is?), but somehow softer and smoother. He was very thin and small, not only because of his stature but because of his gait. As he stood in the doorway, he was shrinking into it, causing an illusion where entryway seemed to yawn open like a great glass mouth, and the boy was trapped inside the kill zone, growing smaller and smaller as he prepared to be swallowed. His hair was shorter than Kaneki's, shorn unevenly as though by his own unsteady hand, and it fell against his dark, round cheeks. That was another huge difference.

The mirror's skin was a warm, healthy brown color.

It wasn't necessarily weird for mixed race kids to appear in Tokyo, but it really threw Kaneki off, because he'd been so  _sure_  he'd been looking at himself. If the boy had been even just a little paler, Kaneki would have smacked himself to make the mirror image disappear. It was just so jarring, looking into this boy's face, seeing the pale medical eyepatch fastened safely to his right eye, and realizing that this wasn't Kaneki's reflection. It was a real boy.

This wasn't his imagination.

This was really happening.

"Oh god…" Kaneki found himself covering his left eye in fear of exposing himself. His fingernails were digging instinctively into the tender flesh of his eyelid, fearing the worst had dropped upon him. He couldn't process what was happening. He just simply feared.

"Kaneki…?" Amon looked at him with some degree of concern, his dark eyes growing wider.

The boy seemed unbearably confused, his eyebrows knitting together desperately as he looked sharply away from Kaneki's face. Kaneki watched his hand lift gingerly to touch his eyepatch, his movements quick and nervous. He was clearly self-conscious.

Suddenly, Kaneki was entirely too empty. He felt like he was drifting, his mind vacating his body and leaving him with nothing but a bundle of weaknesses. He was nothing but a porous shield. A story etched into a round, leatherbound disc, tattered beyond repair. He couldn't think properly.

Then, all that emptiness was filled with pooling, icy rage.

His eyes slid sharply to Amon's face, his fingers dipping against the hollow of his eye socket, protruding veins rising beneath his fingertips. He wanted the whole world to feel his fury.

"What did you  _do_?" he hissed, the heel of his hand digging into his left eye. His fingers trembled as he covered his kakugan, the rest of his body coiling with tension. It wasn't like the atmosphere had been lighthearted to begin with, but Kaneki knew how his mood had flipped the vibes in the air to straight up murderous. He was too angry to think straight. He was too disgusted to rein himself in.

"I haven't done  _anything_ ," Amon retorted, his eyes narrowing. "You need to calm down. Right now. Get a grip."

When Amon stepped forward, Kaneki backed away, his bare feet scraping the linoleum and making a shrill squeaking sound. He threw Amon a furious glare, holding his darkened eye with one hand as he used the other to hold up between them.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he whispered, his eyes growing dull as he found his heart pulling back, receding into a thorny patch inside the hollows of his chest cavity. "Why? Why would anyone do this?"

He was speaking, but not to Amon. He was letting his mind go, and words fell out. Out of his lips, out of his heart. He was feeling faint, like he'd never really been here to begin with.

Amon had been insinuating that he was replaceable for awhile now. But… could the CCG really be capable of such a terrible thing?

Kaneki's wrath crept back to him like a rabid dog being beckoned by its owner. He felt a little dizzy as he slumped, lowering his face into his hands and taking deep breaths. No, Amon was right. He needed to calm down. But it was hard. It was so hard, because he was so angry. Seeing this boy, seeing the eyepatch and making hasty assumptions, it made him sick, because he was violently recollecting his own experiences. It wasn't right. No one should have to go through this!

"Why…?" Kaneki had to think clearer. He had to think! Hadn't this all happened before? He clapped his hands over his eyes, and he could see the restless images, frayed patches on the edges of two girls watching him with vacant expressions, mirror images falling before him. "Oh… is that it…? Shiro and Kuro…?"

"White and black…?" Amon sounded skeptical. Kaneki didn't even want to look at him. "Listen, you already scared the kid off. I know the past few weeks have been stressful, but you have to pull yourself together right now. Okay?"

Kaneki's palms dug into his eyes as his fingernails dug deep into the roots of his hair. He nodded, even though he wasn't sure if it was possible. Had he broken? Already? How had that happened? Ryouko's death wasn't enough to trigger this, and he hadn't been through anything truly traumatic since the God of Death had lobotomized him.

So why?

Why did he feel so bad?

"I'm sorry," he murmured, letting the hand covering his right eye slip away. He let his gaze rise, and he smiled tremulously. "I… I overreacted. All I really do is overreact, I guess…" He took a deep breath, his hand pressing hard to his kakugan.

Amon let out a rather discontented sigh, and he shook his head. "I guess I can't exactly blame you," he said, albeit begrudgingly. "But are you going to be okay? Your eye is acting up, and I don't have anything to give you."

"It's not because I'm hungry," Kaneki murmured, rubbing the persistent veins absently. "This will happen if I'm excessively scared, or anxious, or excited, or, in this case, angry."

"That's inconvenient for you," Amon observed. "Will it go away soon? We're kind of on a compressed schedule, and you can't have that thing showing."

"It'll probably go away soon—" Kaneki broke off, looking sharply at the door as the boy from earlier burst in, huffing and puffing.

"M-Mr. Koutarou!" He rushed up to them, stopping abruptly to drop into a deep bow. He straightened up, his cheeks reddened with an anxious flush. "Um… I think… I think I can help Mr. Kaneki. If that's okay?"

Kaneki stared at him as the boy dared not meet his eye. He felt guilty. He'd probably made a poor first impression on the kid.

Suddenly the boy was offering out both his hands.

"I had an extra one in the car," he explained hastily, pushing the familiar looking eyepatch toward Kaneki. "Please take it. You need it right now, don't you?"

Kaneki was shocked. He'd thought for sure he'd scared the boy half to death, but here he was, offering out his help in the best way he could. Kaneki was deeply touched by the notion. He reached for the eyepatch, plucking it gingerly from the boy's hands and staring at it sadly. It occurred to him that he'd been avoiding wearing one. Why? Because Hide had said it looked too conspicuous? Kaneki didn't really need it much anymore, except for isolated incidents like this where he simply lost complete control of his emotional state.

"Thank you," Kaneki murmured.

"That was very smart, Mutsuki," Amon told the boy kindly. The boy looked down at his feet, as though he wasn't entirely comfortable with the praise. Amon checked a watch on his wrist, his eyebrows furrowing. "Ah. We need to get going. I was hoping to stop at your apartment, Kaneki, so you could get changed, but I don't think that's practical. It'll take us about fifteen minutes to get to the first ward, so we might be okay as long as there's no traffic. Taking thirty five minutes to return to the twentieth ward, and then additionally another twenty five minutes to get from the twentieth ward to the first ward, that's just too much time we don't have."

"It's okay," Kaneki said, though he didn't really believe that. He didn't like the idea that he had to walk around in prison garb. Especially if they were going to the main office. Everyone already knew he was a ghoul, and to show up looking like a straight up felon was uncomfortable, to say the least. "Did Cochlea eat my clothes, or something?"

"I honestly could not tell you the mysteries of the inner workings of Cochlea," Amon said. It was worded like a joke, but the man looked so serious that Kaneki could only manage a forced smile.

Amon led them out the yawning glass doors, and Kaneki put on the eyepatch quickly. The fresh, chilly air made him shudder, the revelation that he was truly free beginning to sink in. But as quickly as the tingle of euphoria came, it faded. He wasn't really free. He'd trapped himself in the CCG's web, and he would never ever be released.

It was sad. He'd made his Faustian bargain, and for what?

He felt like nothing had even changed.

"Kaneki, this is Mutsuki Tooru," Amon said as he led them to the car. "He's a special circumstance, like you."

Mutsuki and Kaneki glanced at each other. He looked pretty young, but Kaneki supposed he couldn't judge. He recalled Touka chiding him once for looking like a high schooler. But he really couldn't imagine that this boy was any older than him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mutsuki said carefully, his eye averting quickly, as though keeping up eye contact was just too much for him.

"Yeah." Kaneki stared at him vacantly, wondering if he really was a half-ghoul after all. There were humans with eyepatches, obviously. Maybe Kaneki had been wrong to jump to such a harsh conclusion. "Sorry, I'm just… a little confused right now."

Mutsuki nodded, though he didn't offer any explanation. Kaneki sighed.

He was offered the passenger's seat, which honestly was alarming, but he took it so Mutsuki didn't feel awkward. He could tell the boy was really shy, and he understood how excruciating it was to be put on the spot. He sunk into his seat, eying his hands and realizing he was probably just as fucked now as he'd been rotting in that cell.

"I'm sorry about Mr. Mado, Amon," Kaneki lied, his fingers brushing his chin. "Were you two close?"

Amon's knuckles were white against the steering wheel. He did not meet Kaneki's eye.

"We were partners," Amon said simply. And that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Kaneki turned his face away, staring out the window and watching the tall buildings reach above his field of vision, cars whirring past, people gathering in bulky crowds near crosswalks. He wasn't used to cars, honestly. Living in the city for basically his whole life had kind of left him without much use for a car. He certainly couldn't drive. It was funny. He'd lived in Tokyo for so long, but it was rare that he really got to  _see_  Tokyo. It felt like he'd been hiding in one quiet little corner, crouching behind average sized buildings and hoping he didn't have to step out of his comfort zone.

He was really, really confused. He wanted to ask Mutsuki if Kanou had experimented on him too, but he didn't know how. It was possible, wasn't it? Kaneki was certain he'd pushed Kanou into hiding earlier than expected, since he'd gone to the CCG initially and shed some light on his malpractice. But what did that mean for Shiro and Kuro?

 _I forgot all about them_ , Kaneki thought numbly.  _Shit. Maybe I should track them down before they become half-ghouls_.

He could probably use the CCG for that, but… how did he bring them up without it being super suspicious? Like…?

"Mr. Kaneki?" Mutsuki's small voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Can I ask you a question?"

Kaneki glanced over his shoulder, and he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Sure, go ahead."

Mutsuki stared at him, and Kaneki saw his fingers clench suddenly at the fabric of his beige duffle coat. "Why… were you in Cochlea, exactly?"

Kaneki's eyes widened. He glanced sharply at Amon, who kept his eyes firmly on the road, leaving no betrayal of emotion. Kaneki scowled.

"Uh…" He laughed nervously, glancing away from both of them and decidedly staring out the window. "I made a decision that the CCG wasn't too keen on, so I got locked up for a bit."

"That…" Mutsuki sounded plainly confused, his voice trailing off. Maybe he was a little skeptical. After all, Kaneki wasn't really offering any details, and what he did offer sounded pretty sketchy.

"It's nothing you need to worry about, Mutsuki," Amon said firmly. "Kaneki's case is a little more complicated than yours."

"Oh." Mutsuki didn't say anything more, though Kaneki could sense he was itching to.

"I'm sorry if I scared you earlier," Kaneki said, turning in his seat to face him. Mutsuki stared at him, his visible eye wide. He didn't deny that he'd been scared but he looked a little uncertain.

"That's okay, Mr. Kaneki," he said softly. The way he said  _Kaneki-san_ , it was practically dripping with over saturated respect. It seemed kind of forced and out of place.

"Can I ask?" Kaneki pointed at Mutsuki's eyepatch, watching his hand fly up to touch it gingerly. "It's not really an injury. Right?"

Mutsuki shook his head slowly. His mouth opened. And then it closed. He looked down at his lap. For the first time, Kaneki really looked at him. He was wearing that beige duffle coat over a pair of jeans, his coat buttoned up nearly to his chin and his hood bundling around his neck. His hair was as dark as Kaneki's, but thicker and shorter, uneven and wispy. His one visible eye was naturally very big, leaving the impression of a deer in distress. There was a duffle bag sitting on the seat beside him.

The car came to a stop, and Kaneki continued to stare at Mutsuki. He felt desperate with his confusion, but he also needed to know if his rage had been valid. What if he'd just snapped over nothing? The thought made him feel immensely guilty.

Kaneki exited the car, his feet scraping the cool pavement of the main office's parking lot. The wind blew, striking his bare arms, and he sighed. He shot a glance at Amon as he stepped out of the driver's seat.

"So," he said, "why are we here?"

Amon rounded the car with a mellow expression, as though he were simply being patient with Kaneki. He closed his eyes. "Well," he said distantly, "the Bureau Director wants a word with you and Mutsuki. Which, by the way, is a pretty big deal."

"Oh. Damn, am I in trouble?" Kaneki was joking, but Amon's eyes snapped open, and he glared down at him.

"What happened before can't happen again," Amon warned. "Right now, what the main office wants to see is  _results_. Do they continue to waste time on you, or do they simply replace you? That's what this is about. So stop taking things so lightly, and remember to do your job. You are a ghoul investigator, Kaneki. Whatever else you are doesn't matter."

Kaneki turned his face away sharply. "I don't need you to remind me of that," he murmured.

"No," Amon said darkly. "You do. Let's go." He opened the back door without looking. "Mutsuki."

"Coming!" The boy's voice broke nervously. From within the car there was a quick zip, and Mutsuki poked his head out of the car. "Sorry. Um…" He stepped out, and he offered a bundle of clothes out to Kaneki. There was a pair of athletic sneakers sitting on top. "Will this do? I think my pants will be a little short on you."

Kaneki stared at him with wide eyes. Amon, too, seemed to be taken aback, his eyes widening and softening.

"Mutsuki…" Kaneki's eyes traveled to the clothes. What could he do? He didn't even know this kid. He'd literally just scared the crap out of him, and he was offering up his clothes just… for what? Kaneki didn't know. The worst part was, Kaneki knew he'd do the same. It made him angry. He wanted to stop seeing an echo of himself in this stranger, because it wasn't fair to him. "Are you sure?"

"I…" Mutsuki glanced away quickly. "Not to be rude, but you looked like you just broke out of prison. You're from the twentieth ward, right?" He looked back at Kaneki, and then he offered out the clothes again. "You don't want to walk into the main office looking like that. Trust me, even ill-fitting clothes like this… are better than being the talk of the whole CCG."

"That's exaggerating a little, isn't it, Mutsuki?" Amon offered with a short, nervous laugh.

Mutsuki seemed to flush, and he shook his head. "No, I'm being serious," he insisted. "You don't want to be on the bad side of a rumor like that, Mr. Koutarou. It's way safer if Kaneki— Mister—"

"Kaneki is just fine, Mutsuki," Kaneki said, reaching out and grasping the clothes. "It's fine. Thank you so much for this. I owe you big time, okay?"

"You don't owe me anything?" Mutsuki looked sheepish now, and Kaneki shrugged, pondering at how he was going to get changed in a parking lot.

"Just change in the car," Amon sighed, shaking his head. "We don't have time to find a public restroom, and the whole point of this is avoiding walking in there dressed like that. So, uh..."

Kaneki wasn't exactly comfortable with that, but it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. He exhaled sharply, and he nodded, climbing into the back seat of Amon's car and shutting the door. Both men immediately turned around to give him his privacy, which he was grateful for, but at this point things like this didn't bother him all that much. Maybe it would have before, back before Yamori, back before everything had become so muddled, but now he was so desensitized to this idea of shame that he couldn't even process it.

The really uncomfortable thing was actually getting dressed while sitting down. That was fucking annoying.

"Thanks," he said again as he tugged on the snug sneakers, his toes cramping as he untucked the back of the shoe. He all but jumped out of the car, testing the feel of Mutsuki's clothes. They were small, but not quite enough that he couldn't move. He rolled up the short hem of the pants so it at least didn't look like he was wearing jeans that didn't fit.

"No problem," Mutsuki said quietly.

"That does look better," Amon admitted as Kaneki slammed the car door shut. "That was a good idea, Mutsuki."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Hey, Mutsuki," Kaneki said as Amon waved them both forward. "Question. Why do you have a duffle bag full of clothes in Amon's back seat?"

Mutsuki paused midstep. He stood for a moment, looking a little rattled, but then continued walking. "I'm between places right now," he explained in a soft, melancholy voice.

"Oh." Kaneki considered this. "Wait, are you saying you don't have anywhere to live?"

"Uh, well, I mean," Mutsuki gasped, shaking his head hastily, "it's not really a big deal at all, really! I was just living at school before this, and now I don't go to school anymore, so I can't live there, but it's really not a big deal, there are lots of hotels in Tokyo—"

"You can't live in hotel." Kaneki shook his head.  _Why do I care so much?_  he wondered mildly. He couldn't help it. He simply cared too much. Wasn't that just his thing? Caring? Too damn much? About everything and everyone? "What university did you go to, anyway?"

"I…" Mutsuki was staring at Kaneki like he'd slapped his head on backwards. Amon gave a sharp little chuckle from ahead of them, and Kaneki shot a glare at his shaking shoulders.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Mutsuki went to the CCG Academy, Kaneki," Amon explained with a small smirk. "He's fifteen."

"Huh?" Kaneki glanced at the boy, who immediately bowed his head and hid his face. "You went to that ghoul hunting school?"

"You didn't?" Mutsuki blurted, looking a little scandalized. "How did you end up here in the first place, if not by the academy?"

"Uh." Kaneki took a moment to think about it, but only superficially. "Yeah, basically unadulterated stupidity."

"You know there are worse places you can be right now," Amon reminded him, pulling the door to the CCG's main office open. "Like a cell."

"Or a lab table," Kaneki retorted, brushing past him. "I'd say in a briefcase too, but—"

"Kaneki, no."

"Oh, what, am I not allowed to joke about that stuff?" Kaneki rolled his eyes. "Do I get to like, decide what happens to it? After I die? Like do I get to will special quinque rights?" He smiled grimly. "That'd be cool."

"What?" Mutsuki asked flatly.

"Kaneki's just being morbid," Amon said quickly. "Don't mind him, he's been through a lot. Have you ever been to the main office before, Mutsuki?"

"Um…" The boy was glancing around the entrance in awe. "Once? It was a while ago, though. I don't remember it well."

"Is Mr. Shinohara still operating from this office?" Kaneki asked, his hands slipping into the soft pockets of Mutsuki's sweater. They both had similar tastes in clothing, so that was good, at least.

"Yeah." Amon smiled fondly. "It seems like he has his hands full with his new partner, though."

"Suzuya?" Kaneki couldn't say it was all that surprising, considering he'd met the kid before and, yeah, they were a handful, but Shinohara had seemed so… in control. It was news to Kaneki that Suzuya and Shinohara had been newly paired up. The way Shinohara had interacted with them, it seemed to Kaneki like he'd been mentoring Suzuya for a long time.

"You met him?" Amon looked curious. "Shinohara introduced you two, or something?"

"Uh…" Kaneki thought about his stolen wallet, and the small fibs he'd told to alleviate the tension of the situation. "Something like that. So wait, Mutsuki, you're still a student? A high schooler?"

"I don't go to school anymore," Mutsuki admitted.

"He's a Rank 3 Investigator," Amon explained vacantly as they entered an elevator. "Like you."

It only took Kaneki just about the entire elevator ride for it to really sink in that he was standing next to his replacement.

 _Holy shit_ , he thought, glancing down at Mutsuki.  _I might be digging my grave right now. This boy, he's going to be the first to toss the dirt over the coffin. Holy shit_.

"What… happened… when I was in Cochlea?" he wondered aloud, partially to himself, but mostly to Amon. "I'm really confused."

"Give it a moment, Kaneki," Amon told him gently. "We're getting there. First let's get you guys to this meeting, and then you'll get your answers."

That made him nervous. Like he was being led into a trap. Part of him wanted to backpedal and find an escape route. Everyone around him was an enemy, no matter how friendly, no matter how sweet. It made his skin prickle. He wasn't even breathing now. Could he really trust Amon? And this boy, Mutsuki, who even was he?

No. This was too much. Too much, too fast. He wasn't ready to face his mistakes just yet.

"Kaneki…?" Mutsuki was glancing at him worriedly. He'd started his usual  _Kaneki-san_ , but cut himself off quickly. He'd stopped midway down a hall, he realized, staring into the void beneath Amon's back. Under the fabric of his coat, his cotton shirt, his easily torn flesh, and the strong sinew stretching thinly over bone. He stared into a space where his mind escaped him, where his consciousness faded, and he was left with this frozen husk of a body, useless as ever.

"Huh?" He allowed himself to snap out of his reverie, and he looked at Mutsuki. The boy was a careful distance away, though he'd turned around completely and stopped to wait for Kaneki. What could he deduce from that? Mutsuki was scared of him, but…? But also, he seemed to care a whole lot about Kaneki's general wellbeing.  _Maybe_ , Kaneki thought, as though Mutsuki could hear him,  _you see it too_. _How alike we are_. "Oh. Sorry, I got distracted."

"Are you okay, Kaneki?" Amon asked cautiously.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Kaneki shot him a sharp look, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Amon, if there was a real problem, trust me. You'd know." He started forward, leaving Mutsuki behind to watch confusedly. He was fifteen. He was young, and he was scared.

He was not a threat. He was just a child, and whatever his situation was right now, it was simply unfair that he had to go through this.

Kaneki had been eighteen. Three years older, and yet he never would have been able to live at all without the guidance of Anteiku. This boy appeared to be quite fine, though. Nervous, but overall very supportive and pretty damn calm, all things considering. Because… wasn't he, like, homeless? And by all accounts, a newly turned ghoul?

Amon led them down a hallway and stopped near the end at a pair of double doors. He rapped his knuckles twice against them while Kaneki and Mutsuki stood silently at either side of him, one reflecting the other without really meaning to.

The man who opened the door was middle-aged, with a soft face sculpted out of a lifetime of hardships. He was smiling, and it looked genuine, reaching his dark eyes until they crinkled at the corners. Those same bright, crinkling eyes moved swiftly from one face to the other. Kaneki didn't miss the glint to his gaze.

"All here, then?" The man, startling poised and still smiling gently, stepped aside and held the door open for them. "I'd like to begin as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry for any delay, sir," Amon said in a firm, dignified voice. "Cochlea didn't hold on to Kaneki's clothes, so we had to make do."

"Well, Cochlea doesn't have much of a reason to keep clothing around, does it?" The man chuckled, glancing at Kaneki. For some reason, Kaneki was a little suspicious. It didn't seem plausible that this random old man would be able to tell which tiny eyepatched kid was Kaneki Ken just by glancing. "You seem to have gotten along well enough without clothes."

"I'm borrowing them." Kaneki watched the man's back as he turned away, walking toward a warm mahogany desk and hopping right up on top of it. He sat near the edge so his feet scraped the floor, leaning back leisurely as he gestured to the seats before him. There were only two. Amon hung back, a signal for Kaneki and Mutsuki to go on and take the seats.

"My name is Washuu Yoshitoki," the man said calmly as Kaneki and Mutsuki slowly took their places in their designated seats. Mutsuki looked nervous. Kaneki didn't know how he looked, but he sensed it probably wasn't all that great. "I'm the Bureau Director here at the CCG. Which, you know, all in good fun. Lots of paperwork and such." Yoshitoki smiled down at them. "Let me guess. Kaneki Ken," he jerked his finger toward Kaneki's face, then immediately swung it toward Mutsuki, who jumped. "Mutsuki Tooru. Right?"

"How did you…?" Mutsuki's visible eye was so wide, Kaneki thought it might activate its kakugan at any moment. Then without warning, Mutsuki seemed to relax. He bowed his head, and Kaneki blinked at him curiously.  _He's figured something out_ , he realized. Ah. So this boy was probably more investigator than hunter. Was that a good thing? Kaneki couldn't be sure just yet. "Oh."

"Oh?" Yoshitoki tilted his head, his dark, fluffy hair falling away from his face. "What? Are you going to call my bluff?"

Mutsuki glanced up at him, his brow furrowing. He pressed his lips firmly together, and he averted his gaze sharply.

"You can speak freely," Yoshitoki told Mutsuki quickly, probably sensing that the boy was completely closing up.

Mutsuki exhaled sharply. He met Yoshitoki's eye, his jaw tightening.

"It wasn't a bluff," he said softly.

Yoshitoki smiled. "Well," he said, "then how did I know?"

Kaneki turned to stare at Mutsuki. The boy's fingers clenched at the hem of his coat, and he took a deep breath. "You read our files," he murmured, turning his eyes toward his lap. "Right?"

"Huh." Yoshitoki looked over their heads, likely meeting Amon's eye. "Koutarou. Did you read Mutsuki's file?"

"No, sir." Amon sounded a little confused. "As far as I know, Mutsuki's file hasn't been digitally stored in the CCG's network, so if you have his file, that's the only one available. Kaneki, however, is a completely different story."

"You don't need to read a file to know my baggage, Amon," Kaneki tried to joke. Only Yoshitoki laughed. Kaneki tried not to look too stung.  _Hide would have laughed_ , he thought glumly. Hide. Oh, god, he needed to contact Hide!

"Mutsuki's file should remain classified for now, I think," Yoshitoki said, frowning a bit. "The details of his predicament are pretty underwraps, and if information leaked out into public forums anyone could get to it. It'd just make him a target, really."

"Mr. Washuu," Kaneki spoke up, his voice rather dead. "Did you…" He raised his eyes, unable to keep his cold fury to himself. "Did the CCG use me in order to recreate Kanou's experiment and birth more half-ghouls?"

Yoshitoki did not answer immediately. He merely studied Kaneki's face, his soft face looking rather worn and exhausted. Mutsuki had stiffened in his seat, his one visible eye sliding hastily to Kaneki's face.

"Kaneki—" Amon started, letting out an exasperated sigh. Yoshitoki held up his hand, waving it casually at Amon, who immediately fell silent.

"It's just an honest question, Koutarou," Yoshitoki said, smiling dimly. "I think we owe Kaneki an explanation at the very least, don't you?"

"Of course," Amon said. "I'm sorry. I just think he could have phrased that better."

"Everything I say is wrong," Kaneki quipped in a clipped, bitter voice. "At this point, Amon, you should just start whispering in my ear what to do and say at any given moment."

"Stop that, Kaneki." Amon's voice was cold and firm. "I understand your anger, but you are acting like a child."

"They experimented on me!" Kaneki jerked to his feet and whirled around to face Amon. He wasn't even angry at him. He wasn't sure who he was angry at, but he was angry, and it felt so cold as it leaked through his chest, like melting ice pooling at the bottom of a cooler. "They drugged me and took me out of my cell when I was sleeping. They used me to make more human weapons!"

"Kaneki," Yoshitoki said gently. "Calm down. I can promise you, what was done to you in Cochlea was not experimentation. The doctors there were merely monitoring your life signs, in addition to your RC signature. They were able to determine from a completely non-invasive set of tests how to safely mimic Dr. Kanou's experiment."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kaneki said coolly, his fists clenching at his sides. "So you experimented on a child instead? My bad. That makes it all fucking better."

"Kaneki!" Amon reprimanded sharply. Kaneki decidedly ignored him.

"It wasn't like that," Mutsuki gasped, looking up at Kaneki with his one visible eye clearly desperate and scared. "Kaneki, please, I consented to the surgery! It wasn't—"

"The CCG is a large scale military faction with numerous branches around the globe," Kaneki informed Mutsuki curtly. "They have money and resources and manpower that ghouls do not. To put it simply, the CCG didn't need you. But kids are easy." His eyes flashed dangerously to Yoshitoki's warm, weary face. "Kids won't ask questions, and if they're desperate, they won't need much convincing at all."

Mutsuki's mouth clamped shut. From the way the atmosphere in the room shifted, it was clear that Kaneki's vicious, rapid words had hit home. And maybe Kaneki might have felt bad about that if it had been any other time, but he was so furious that he could barely reach any other emotion inside the void that seemed to envelope his chest.

Yoshitoki inhaled sharply, and he stretched his legs out further from the desk. He scratched his cheek, smiling vacantly down at his feet. He had a very calming presence, his eyes softening more and more with every passing moment. Kaneki didn't know why, but he found his anger fading rapidly, replaced by an inexplicable desire to crack open this man's head and feel his secrets fall like warm summer rain through Kaneki's fingers.

"Kaneki," the man said gently, "I was the one who authorized the Q project. I saw your test results first hand, and I understand your reservations on the subject, but we made alterations to Kanou's initial experiment. That offers Mutsuki far more freedom than you have, and lessens the risk of an RC spike." He sighed, lowering his head in what might have been reflection, his smile dim and sad. "I'm sorry. You have been through so much already, so this probably came as a shock. But, Kaneki, you and Mutsuki are two completely different cases."

"We're both crossbreeds," Kaneki whispered. "What's the difference? Do you honestly think that because you got consent first, that makes what you did somehow more ethical than what Kanou did to me? You're delusional!"

"You were implanted with ghoul organs," Yoshitoki assured, resting his hands back against his desk and lounging against it. "Of course that had a lot of negative consequences. In truth, I doubt Dr. Kanou expected you to survive this long on your own. But you know, against all odds, here you are!" Yoshitoki tilted his head, and he shrugged. "Mutsuki, however, was implanted with kakuhou sealed within a box made with the same basic material as the quinque. This prohibits his RC cells from rapidly reproducing, or for his regular cells to begin to mutate. Essentially, he's a normal human with the ability to use the kagune."

Kaneki stared at him blankly. Very slowly, he settled back into his seat, mulling over Yoshitoki's words. He wasn't quite so enraged as he was confused, because he didn't quite get how it was possible for a "normal human" to use the kagune and have a kakugan. It just didn't make sense.

He turned to face Mutsuki. "A normal human? So you can still eat human food?"

Mutsuki seemed to go rigid, like a cat that had been spooked and felt the need to violently recoil, but could not quite fully react. "You… you  _can't_?" he asked in a tremulous voice.

"Don't worry too much, Mutsuki," the CCG Director piped up. "If Kaneki was dangerous, he wouldn't have been allowed out of Cochlea."

"But why was he there in the first place?" Mutsuki blurted. He looked immediately remorseful, his dark cheeks reddening. He bowed his head as Yoshitoki laughed.

"Ah, well, from what I've heard," he said with a peculiar brightness to his tone, "Kaneki here is very compassionate. A little too much, I'm afraid, for the general liking of our organization. Basically he was being punished for insubordination."

"Isn't sending him to Cochlea a little… extreme?" Mutsuki glanced worriedly at Kaneki's face, his hands wringing in his lap.  _He's so nervous_ , Kaneki thought sadly.  _This poor kid. Why would he ever consent to this hell?_  He had a feeling that Mutsuki's story was a lot more complicated than he'd initially thought. It was a relief though, to know that he could still eat normal food.

"I recommended putting him under house arrest," Yoshitoki said thoughtfully, "but that was overruled. The detention center seemed much more intimidating, and it wasn't solely up to me, unfortunately. So I'm sorry for that as well, Kaneki. You've been treated rather harshly, and that isn't fair to you."

"Thanks," he said dully. "I… guess?"

"I guess we should address why we're all here." Yoshitoki stood up straight and rounded his desk. "Kaneki, you've shown incredible control over your kagune, leading us to assume you have a natural proficiency with it. You were also able to hold your own against a ghoul in a fight, which by the way, is very impressive for someone without any training. You'll be an amazing asset to us."

Kaneki couldn't really help but feel content as the man spoke. It felt nice to be praised by him.

"Mutsuki has been unable to summon his kagune," Yoshitoki continued, sitting down at his desk and glancing at what appeared to be a medical report. "I don't see why it's a huge deal, since, you know, he's still pretty fresh out of the surgery, but of course everyone wants to see results immediately." His eyebrows raised, and he chuckled. "Yeah, good luck with that. Anyway, I want you to coach him."

"Uh…" Kaneki and Mutsuki glanced at each other. He looked at the boy, with his round, dark face, and his large visible eye, and the eyepatch, and he remembered vividly his own experience with kagune training. He almost actually winced. "Okay. I'll try."

"Good." Yoshitoki smiled at them, leaning back in his chair. "Kaneki, since you live in the twentieth ward, I assume you're fine with continuing to operate there under Koutarou."

"Sure."

"Mutsuki," Yoshitoki continued, looking at the boy, "you'll be working with Kaneki under Amon's jurisdiction. You're still a novelty among investigators, so it may be for the best if you keep your abilities a secret for now."

"Oh. Oh, right, of course." Mutsuki nodded curtly. Kaneki thought perhaps he was the only one who really heard the relief in his voice.

"You'll both receive quinques," Yoshitoki continued, realigning the papers on his desk as though he was growing bored and fidgety, "because you will be doing field work from now on, and frankly relying on your kagune is, in my opinion, a huge health hazard. You two are not ghouls. If you burn too many RC cells trying to fight an opponent, you'll be defenseless. I assume neither of you have a preference?"

"A preference?" Kaneki repeated. His mouth was dry. The idea of twirling around some other ghoul's kagune made him sick to his stomach.

"Bikaku, Rinkaku, etcetera…?" Yoshitoki drummed a pen against his lips. "I don't know. Some people are crazy about that sort of thing. Take Mado Kureo! Ah, my apologies, Koutarou, you were partners, weren't you? He was a fascinating man, but wow. Now that's a quinque specialist."

"No preference," Kaneki stated flatly.

"Same," Mutsuki murmured.

Yoshitoki glanced between the two of them. He smiled genially, his eyes softening to the point where he looked a bit like an elderly dog. "I'll figure something out for you both," he said gently. "I can probably trust you guys not to die until then, right?" He laughed brightly, and Kaneki found himself relaxing.

"I'll be there to make sure that doesn't happen," Amon spoke up, sounding so very resolute. Kaneki closed his eyes. Carefully, he reached up and removed his eyepatch. Mutsuki stiffened in the seat beside him, looking wild eyed. Perhaps he was imagining what it'd be like to take off his own eyepatch.

"Director," he said, staring at him with dead eyes. "I'd like to speak to you alone."

The room was silent. It felt as though the atmosphere had shifted, and Kaneki was once more the unrepentant catalyst. He'd made the air turn over, releasing thick ribbons of tension over them.

However, Yoshitoki seemed inexplicably unaffected.

He smiled, and he offered a shrug. "Yeah, sure," he said. "I don't see why not." He stood, and he began to walk toward the door. He gestured for Kaneki to follow, and for a moment he merely stared in shock before quickly leaping to his feet. He tucked the eyepatch into his pocket and let Yoshitoki lead him from the room, the eyes of Amon and Mutsuki following their backs as they went.

"I almost want to guess what this is about," Yoshitoki said as they headed down the hall. "But my better judgement tells me you're not that patient. What's on your mind, Kaneki?"

He wasn't entirely sure. This was, in his mind, the only chance he had to really get to the heart of the CCG without causing another scene. But even without the theatrics, he felt like he was going to get flung into Cochlea again. He was scared to speak. He could hear his own heart racing, his eyes cast forward into nothing, and he realized he really was nothing more than an empty husk strung up and showcased around.

"You must think I'm useful," Kaneki said thoughtfully.

"You are." Yoshitoki smiled. "But that's not what this is about. Should we find somewhere to sit down?"

"I don't want to be overheard."

"Then let's go for a walk around the block." Yoshitoki stretched his arms, and he shrugged. "It's my lunch break. Plus there's a fast food place down the street, and I could use a burger." He started forward with more energy than Kaneki had anticipated, taking quick, even strides down the hall.

As he passed by his office door, he bellowed, "Koutarou! I'm going to McDonald's! What do you and Mutsuki want?"

"What?" The door opened behind them, Amon's voice quick and shaky. "Sir, you— you honestly don't have to—!"

"I'll just guess, then!" Yoshitoki zipped down the hall and onto the staircase, clearly avoiding Amon's objection like the plague. Kaneki rushed to catch up, feeling a little lost, but somewhat exhilarated.

"You're pretty new," Yoshitoki said, slowing his pace as he descended the stairwell so Kaneki could catch up. "I can tell you feel no obligation to respect me, so frankly I'd like to try my best to earn it. Your respect, and also your trust."

Kaneki looked away. His trust? Well, it was a pretty thought. He'd give him that.

"What I am," Kaneki began as they neared the exit, "has clearly influenced the CCG's decision making process. You don't care that I'm a half ghoul at this point. You just want me to kill other ghouls."

"Well no one was really anticipating you'd try to save them," Yoshitoki joked mildly, shooting Kaneki a soft smile. "That was a bold choice. I'll tell you one thing for sure, no one here will ever call you a coward."

 _Then why do I feel like one?_ he thought sadly.

"About that…" He squinted into the sunlight as they exited the CCG. "I'm still not over it. That woman shouldn't have been killed."

Yoshitoki was quiet. He stood in silence for a moment before he started forward, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his white trench coat. "Ghouls kill people," he said. "We kill ghouls. Ghouls fight back. It's a messy cycle."

"And it can end!" Kaneki looked up at the man desperately, feeling only deepening sorrow as he recalled how useless he'd been upon facing Ryouko's death. "There are really, really bad ghouls out there. Ghouls that terrorize not only humans, but other ghouls! We should focus more on them, and less on the harmless ghouls who can't even provide for themselves!"

Yoshitoki continued walking, smiling vacantly ahead of him. He was pensive for sure, thinking fast and evaluating Kaneki's every word.

"I understand," Yoshitoki said quietly. "It's hard when the people you thought you knew turn out to be something else, isn't it? But trust me, Kaneki. It's better off this way."

"We are murderers," Kaneki snapped. "We are cold blooded killers. We hunt our prey, we mock their pleas, and we beat them when we're down. We rip them apart, and we harvest their organs because they're more useful to us dead than alive. We leave entire families devastated, children without homes, without fathers or mothers, and we endlessly taunt them with the people that they've already lost to us." He shot the Director a furious glare. "Now, Mr. Washuu,  _who am I talking about_?"

Yoshitoki's eyebrows raised, and he averted his gaze. "Well," he admitted, "that's a fair assessment. I ask myself that question sometimes. Are we no better than the ghouls?" He shrugged. "Who knows? But we're protecting people. So that's that."

"And who's going to protect people from us?" Kaneki asked.

"Ah." Yoshitoki waggled his finger. "Isn't that just the question? Tell me, Kaneki, how many ghouls do you know?"

His jaw clenched. He was being too transparent. He might as well scream that he was completely invested in the wellbeing of numerous ghouls across the city, and would die for them.

"Your voice won't be heard." Yoshitoki's footsteps were brisk, his heels clipping the sidewalk as he moved effortlessly through a crowd. Kaneki was struggling to keep by his side. "You will scream yourself hoarse trying to win over the CCG to this crusade, Kaneki. You may even lose your life to it. Please, for your own safety, stop this."

"I can't." Kaneki looked up at him, and he could feel his desperation creeping in. "There has to be a way. I exist, don't I? There has to be a reason. I want to bridge the gap between worlds. To show that humans and ghouls aren't so different. Is that wrong?"

"You joined the CCG, Kaneki. Remember that." Yoshitoki shook his head. "You chose us. You could have opposed us."

"But I didn't!" he gasped. "Because I thought you could help me! But all you've done is lock me up and treat me like a criminal for existing! You can't just do that to people!"

Yoshitoki was smiling, and that was terribly unnerving. Why? Why was he so calm?

"I can't imagine you happen to have a compromise." He paused in the middle of the sidewalk and half turned to glance back at him. His hands were still in his pockets. "Okay, then. Let's hear it. Say hypothetically, the CCG decided to listen to you and maybe start seeing the world as less black and white, and more gray. How would you convince us that you're right?"

Kaneki stood, feeling a little rattled, as though Yoshitoki had just handed him a lottery ticket with all but one number filled in.

"How?" he repeated softly.

"Yes. How?" Yoshitoki watched him with glittering eyes. "What step would you take to change our entire world? Just out of curiosity."

"Uh…" Kaneki didn't even really need to think about it. "I'd have the CCG hire a ghoul. Not a half ghoul like me, or whatever Mutsuki is. A real ghoul."

"Really?" Yoshitoki's eyes widened a bit. "How on earth would you convince a ghoul to work for the CCG?"

"Easy." Kaneki shrugged. "Offer them and their immediate relatives immunity. You'd have ghouls lining around the block, if you were serious about it."

"That's pretty risky." Yoshitoki was smiling, which was sort of frightening, but also soothing. "Granting immunity to any old ghoul?"

"Of course you'd be a little selective," Kaneki said vacantly, scratching his head. "I mean, your best bet would be ghouls who have been able to fully integrate into human society. You can actually run background checks on them."

"That's fascinating." Yoshitoki stared at Kaneki until Kaneki felt like he was going to combust. "Do you think that could actually work?"

"I don't see why not?"

Yoshitoki cocked his head in a way that seemed to say, "Well, you've got a point." He stared ahead of him for a few moments, and then he turned. He whirled on his heel, and he faced Kaneki fully. "I have an idea. I would need your complete cooperation, and also for your theory to be correct."

"Wait, what?" Kaneki choked, taking a step back.

"A ghoul could easily infiltrate a ghoul organization." Yoshitoki's smile was earnest, but also undeniably sly. "You obviously can't do it. I've seen your kakugan. Oh, it's gone now, by the way." Kaneki touched his eye self-consciously. "So, what I'm really asking is, do you think you can find a ghoul willing to work with me?"

Kaneki stared at him.

"Is this a joke?" he asked slowly. "Or like, a test? I really don't want to go back to Cochlea."

"I'm being serious this time."

"You want me to…" Kaneki's eyes widened. "You want to hire a ghoul?"

"Well, basically," he said thoughtfully, "what I really want is to hire a spy."

And before Kaneki really knew it, a deal had been struck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chiliarchus, chiliarchi.  
> commander of 1,000 men; persian chancellor (highest office next to the king).


	11. reneo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, funny thing, i actually managed to finish this before my first midterm! but now i should really crack down and like. study. thank you for all of your theories about who the spy is going to be! some of you got it right =] don't think too hard about it.
> 
> also the amount of effort i put into trying to figure out if goosebumps was translated into japanese was ridiculous. the show definitely was, but i still have no idea about the books. we'll say they did for convenience sake. anyway, enjoy!

How does one even go about initiating making a deal with the devil?

Do you sacrifice something? Make an offering? Say some words over an open flame?

The trouble with Faustian bargains, you know, is that the devil is never summoned.

No.

He finds you.

Making a deal with the devil isn't a choice. It's a bad toss of fate.

"You know how to get in touch with me," Yoshitoki said as they walked up the stairs toward his office. He had a bag of take out in one hand, while Kaneki had been roped into holding the drinks. "I'm personally very excited to see how this goes."

"Aren't you… scared…?" Kaneki searched the man's face bemusedly. "Don't you think something will go wrong?"

"Of course that's always a possibility. Someone may get hurt." Yoshitoki glanced at Kaneki, and he sighed. "Have you ever gambled before, Kaneki?"

"No…"

"Well, don't start, it's a dangerous practice," he laughed. "But putting your faith in luck and chance is always a huge risk. I'm just willing to take it more often than not."

"Huh." Kaneki didn't like the idea of leaving things to chance. With his luck, it'd only end badly.

They stopped at Yoshitoki's office, only to find the room was empty. Yoshitoki frowned, and he shrugged, leading Kaneki in the opposite direction. "Okay," he said. "Let's go find where those two went before the food gets cold."

"Okay…" They were backtracking now. Kaneki felt a little numb, like none of this was really happening. This was an out of body experience. Like he was watching all of this happening from the corner of the ceiling, his sole trapped somewhere away from his body, and his limbs going forth and marching mechanically to the tune that had been beaten into his head a thousand times over.

That made it easy for him to completely zone out until he suddenly found himself approaching Amon and Mutsuki. Amon was chatting amiably with an investigator whose back was turned to them, while Mutsuki simply stood with his hands folded in front of him. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

"There you are," Yoshitoki announced. Kaneki hung back as he started toward them, offering out the food he'd bought proudly. "Please take this—"

There was an overwhelming crashing sound, like falling objects coupled with a sinister splash. All Kaneki could think, hearing that sound, was a distant drum of worry.  _Was that blood? Whose blood? My blood? Hide's blood? Where is Hide? Where did Hide go?_  As if he weren't there at all, as if he'd been thrust backwards in time, as if his mind had turned to mush in the short span of seconds.

There was no real explanation. He felt like he'd been bashed in the head, like his vision had conked out and all that was left to him was this disoriented sensation, ghosts of the pain he should be feeling or should never have felt, and the harsh ringing of some internal siren going off inside his ears.

Was he bleeding from somewhere? Maybe he should sit down. Lie down. Go to sleep. Never wake up.

That'd be nice.

He had no explanations, really, for why he was suddenly so far away. He was confused. His life seemed like a joke, like a bad joke without a punchline. Like he was consistently performing in front of an audience, a stand-up comedian without even a shred of humor, and whenever he opened his mouth, there was no one who laughed. They only screamed.

He could hear them now.

Screaming. At him. Why? Why did this always happen?

Why didn't they just leave him alone?

"Kaneki!"

He was yanked back by a hook and a thread, and it felt like his skin was tearing because of it. He was suddenly made aware of his surroundings, like a blindfold had been yanked off his eyes, and he stood vacantly before four men, spilled soda pooling around his sneakers. He looked down at the cups he'd dropped, watching the ice shift around slowly as it melted into the dark carbonated liquid.

Was this supposed to be a metaphor for his life, or something?

What a mess.

"What just happened?" It was addressed to him. An urgent voice, brisk and concerned. He knew that voice. Amon? Koutarou Amon?

Right… right! He was in the CCG!

"I…" What had just happened? He didn't know. He felt terrible, like he was about to pass out at any moment, and his breathing was quick and unsteady, and he felt his heartbeat. The vicious berating of it against his ribs, the echo of it in his ears. He was scared, and he was shaking, and he didn't understand why. He wanted to scream but he didn't think he could gulp enough air to do so.

When he looked up, he realized exactly what his problem was.

Death stood before him, watching dully from behind a pair of glasses, scrutinizing Kaneki as though he were a worm. A glorified fucking worm.

He wasn't really sure what was happening, but he knew he had to get away from everyone. He just needed to get far away. It'd be okay if he just curled up into a ball and died, because he felt like he was dying anyway. Over and over.

There was a pain behind his eyes that wouldn't go away. A persistent stabbing. A reminder of his death at the hands of Death and a past that should have stayed fucking dead.

He took one unsteady step back. And then another. Could he outrun Death?

Well, he was going to fucking try.

He bolted down the hall, turning a sharp corner and nearly slipping, his sneakers squeaking against the floor due to stepping in a puddle of soda. He half gripped a wall, still rushing forward and feeling dizzier and dizzier by the moment. He couldn't breathe right, and running seemed impossible, but he was doing it. Fuck the impossible, he was doing it.

Somehow he managed to stumble across a bathroom. He all but crashed through the door, falling to his knees in one of the stalls and vomiting into a toilet. There wasn't much to puke, either, so he just spat acidic bile into the bowl, listening to his own heaving breaths and another bout of nausea shuddered through him. More bile was choked up, and he coughed, his chest seizing up and his eyes watering pitifully.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" someone gasped from behind him. Probably an investigator who'd just walked in.

Kaneki didn't even look. He just threw a jerky thumbs up, and then proceeded to vomit a mouthful of nothing into the toilet.

The pain behind his eyes wouldn't go, wouldn't go, wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, no matter how much he gasped, how much he vomited, how much he tried to push it to the back of his head and abandon it to die in the harsh, cold depths of his forgotten memories. He couldn't get this image out of his head, Death standing, Death watching, Death plunging a spike through the back of his head and into his eye.

He wanted to vomit again. He tried, but it wasn't working. He had nothing left inside him to vomit.

Nothing left inside him.

That felt like the right way to describe it.

He felt like he'd vomited up his personality a long time ago, and he had nothing to fill the void but sadness and rage.

He held his head with one hand and his chest with the other, and he slumped against the bathroom floor, listening as he breathed and breathed and breathed. It was a sign that he was still alive, but he felt like he was going to die, so why should it matter, anyway? Did anything matter at all?

He felt a sudden presence beside him. A shadow yawning over him. He didn't want to look.

"I'm—" He covered his eyes with his hand. "I'm fine, just— just please… give me a minute…"

The shadow shrunk. Kaneki uncovered his eyes.

His mirror image was sitting across from him. His back was pressed up to the stall door, his knees propped up, and his visible eye averted sadly.

Kaneki continued to gulp deep breaths of air, his shaky fingers falling away from his head.

He stared at the boy, still breathless, but he could feel his senses returning to him slowly. His fingers didn't feel so tingly, and his chest wasn't so tight, and the nausea had faded, though the chill persisted.

After another minute, he managed to catch his breath. He swallowed hard, and he whisked his fingers through his hair.

"Oh god," he whispered, wiping the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his borrowed sweater. "I… I'm sorry, I… I don't know what—"

"It's fine," Mutsuki said quietly, raising his eye. "I've gotten panic attacks before, so I get it."

Kaneki swallowed hard, and he slumped against the wall of the stall. He could sense that Mutsuki was keeping an intentional distance. Maybe it was because he was scared, or maybe it was because he didn't want to invade Kaneki's personal space, or maybe it was both. Who knew?

"This is embarrassing," he murmured, pulling his legs up and burying his face in his knees.

"I told them what it was, so they're much more understanding now," Mutsuki offered. It didn't make Kaneki feel any better. A short silence stretched between them. And then, without warning, Mutsuki blurted, "I'm sorry."

Kaneki raised his head to stare at him blankly. He felt so drained, but even now he felt a twinge of awe, because Mutsuki had little mannerisms that just… were so very familiar. Kaneki understood this desperate need to make up for something that was beyond his control.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Kaneki said. He spoke as it as a gentle reminder, and Mutsuki flushed.

"I…" He winced. "I know. I just… I feel bad."

"It's no one's fault." That was a lie. It was Arima Kishou's fault. But that wasn't reasonable anymore, so right now it really was just Kaneki's fault. His mind was a mess.

Mutsuki closed his eye, and he rested his head back against the stall door. "Nobody told me about you," he said quietly. "Nobody even thought to mention it to me. Maybe… maybe it's my own fault for never asking, but when they were looking for volunteers, they never mentioned where they got the idea from."

"What did they tell you?" Kaneki asked hoarsely. "To convince you?"

"They just told us it was a new program to further quinque research," Mutsuki replied, "and that it was very high risk. But basically, anyone who could successfully partake would be able to become an investigator full time without completing the Academy." Mutsuki opened his eye, and he offered a small shrug. "That's what convinced me."

That raised some alarms. Kaneki wanted to ask more, but he didn't want to be invasive.

"Are you scared of me?" It sounded flat and empty as it fell from his lips, but in reality he was desperate. He was scared that he might have scared Mutsuki, that any friendship they might have was already tarnished by his own foolishness.

Mutsuki looked down at his knees, his jaw tightening. He took a deep breath. "Well," he sighed, "I guess I was a little, at first, but now that I know more about you, I think I get it. You didn't want this life, right?"

"I can't imagine why anyone would want to be like this," Kaneki murmured.

Self-consciously, Mutsuki's fingers brushed his eyepatch. He frowned deeply. "It must be hard for you," he said softly.

Kaneki took a deep breath.  _I have to be strong for this kid_ , he thought numbly. Strength was never something that came easy to him. It was always work, work, work. Gotta become strong, stronger, the fucking strongest. And where had that led him?

With two gaping holes in his fucking eyes.

"I'm okay," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thank you so much, though."

"I didn't… do anything…"

"You sitting here with me helped me calm down," Kaneki gasped, shaking his head. "I wouldn't call that nothing!"

Mutsuki pressed his lips together, as though to make his mouth disappear completely, and he averted his gaze.

"Really," Kaneki insisted, leaning forward a bit. "It means a lot."

"You're welcome." Mutsuki watched Kaneki was he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. "Do you need help?"

"No, I've got this." Kaneki was determined. Mutsuki couldn't use his kagune, right? And they'd be paired up together in the field. So Mutsuki had to trust Kaneki to be able to protect him.  _I can do that,_  he thought firmly. _I won't let anything happen to him_.

As Kaneki walked over to the sink and flicked on the faucet, Mutsuki stood up. He dusted off his coat as Kaneki washed his mouth out, grimacing at the lingering taste of bile on his tongue.

"Do you know any hotels in the twentieth ward I could stay at?" Mutsuki asked hesitantly. He was gripping the hem of his jacket again, looking a little anxious as Kaneki wiped his mouth.

He knew instantly what he was going to do, and he wished he could stop himself and be a disgusting, lowly, selfish human being, but he just couldn't do that. It wasn't who he was.

"You can stay at my apartment!" he gasped, facing Mutsuki with wide eyes. "I mean, only if you want to."

Mutsuki looked absolutely terrified. His visible eye was so big that it was mostly just white and then a blot of color somewhere in the center.

"Would that be okay?" he squeaked.

"Yeah, of course!" Kaneki smiled warmly. "You helped me so much today, it's only fair that I help you too."

Mutsuki flushed. He looked down, his mouth opening and closing, and Kaneki realized with a heavy heart that the boy looked like he was about to start crying. All of Kaneki's doubts were erased. _I'm going to protect him_ , he thought firmly.  _He won't become like me, like I am now, I won't let it happen_.

"T-thank you very much!" Mutsuki gasped, dropping into a deep bow. "I promise it won't be for very long, I'll find my own apartment soon!"

"Mutsuki, it's okay," Kaneki said gently. "Please don't worry about that. It's fine."

Mutsuki straightened up, but he kept his head bowed. It was likely he was hiding the tears in his eyes, and Kaneki felt guilty. He knew this feeling well, this intense sensation of being overwhelmed by someone else's kindness. He hadn't wanted this.

"Let's head back," Kaneki suggested. "I'm sure Amon's really worried."

Mutsuki raised his head, looking somewhat guilty. When he smiled, it was weak and uncertain, but it was there nonetheless, and Kaneki could only be grateful for that.

* * *

Kaneki didn't want to appear worried. He really wanted to be cool about it. But it was kind of difficult, honestly.

"What?" he asked blankly.

Mutsuki looked down at his duffle bag, and he flushed. "This… this is the only one. My only bag." He looked almost ashamed, and that made Kaneki feel even worse.

"Oh." Kaneki nodded. Maybe for a little too long, his mind working too fast to really process this whole situation. That explained why Amon had just driven off.

Kaneki unlocked his door and kicked it open. "It's a little small," he admitted sheepishly, tucking the spare key into his pocket. "Sorry. I'm on a tight budget, since I was an unemployed college student until recently."

"It's way bigger than my dorm room," Mutsuki gasped, his eye huge as it whisked around the room in awe. From the kitchenette to the tiny living room. He seemed so delighted that Kaneki was honestly touched. His shitty little apartment was impressive to someone. Was that what being fifteen was like? Could he go back to that?

"You can sleep in here," Kaneki said, leading Mutsuki to his bedroom. "Again, it's small, but—"

"Where will you sleep?" Mutsuki blurted.

Kaneki glanced at him.  _Smart_ , he thought. Mutsuki had realized immediately that Kaneki was giving him his bed.

"Don't worry," Kaneki said with a small smile. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've kinda gotten used to not sleeping in a bed, and I'm a little apprehensive to even try. So you might as well take it."

Mutsuki didn't look so sure. His eye grew lidded, as narrowed as it could possibly get without becoming a glare. He gripped the strap of his bag tighter, and he shook his head furiously.

"I can't take your room," he said firmly. "Please don't make me."

"I'm… not…?" Kaneki studied him curiously. "Listen. I'm being serious. I don't think I'll be able to sleep in a bed for awhile, and I kind of want to ease myself back into it. It'd be a waste for me to take the bed if I won't be able to actually sleep."

Mutsuki's jaw tightened, but he didn't object. He probably realized there wasn't a point, that Kaneki had won and that he was going to sleep in the bed.

"So," Kaneki said, flicking on the light in his room and leading Mutsuki forward, "yeah. This is it. Bed. Fridge back in the kitchen? There isn't much in there, sorry… um, bathroom…" He pointed to an adjoining door. "Do you mind if I shower first? Heed my advice, okay, don't fuck with the CCG." He rifled through his drawers as Mutsuki gaped at him. "They really know how to hold grudges."

"Was Cochlea really that bad?" Mutsuki gasped.

"It could've been a lot worse, I guess," Kaneki mused, tucking his clothes under his arm. "I'm still relatively sane and in one piece. I should be grateful, really, that Mado didn't chop me up when he had the chance."

Mutsuki blanched, his lips moving and no sound coming out. He looked mildly horrified, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Are you… joking?" he asked hoarsely.

Kaneki smiled at him gently. "Yes," he lied, laughing a little as he touch his chin. "Sorry, that's in bad taste. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead."

"Mado was… Koutarou's previous partner, right?" Mutsuki's knuckles were white against the strap of his duffle bag. "You… seem to not like him very much."

"He was a scary guy," Kaneki admitted. He glanced at Mutsuki, and he shook his head. "Honestly, be glad you never got to meet him. I like Amon, but Mado was really creepy."

Mutsuki grimaced. "Noted," he sighed.

Kaneki left Mutsuki with that, feeling overwhelmingly grimy. His skin was uncomfortably oily, and his hair was unwashed and curling. He didn't want to think about it too much, because if it did, he'd end up peeling his skin off in the shower trying to scrub all the filth from his pores. The only trouble was, showering basically set him up for thinking way too much.

He didn't want to think right now. He didn't want to think at all.

All he wanted was a way to turn it all off. Wanting to be numb was almost as bad as actually being numb.

Wasn't that how it went? Feeling so much that all you wanted was to just turn it all off? And then when you could no longer feel a goddamn thing, you became desperate. Desperate and self-destructive and pining for the emotions you'd lost.

So much had happened all at once. He was feeling too much and nothing at all.  _I have to find a ghoul to infiltrate a ghoul organization_ , he thought under the mild pressure of his shower head. The water was plastering his hair to the back of his neck and his forehead. He lowered his face into his hands, the hot water slipping through the crevices and into his eyes. The truth trickled through his fingers and into his tear ducts.

"Aogiri," he whispered, lifting his hands shaking from his face and gaping at the water pooling at his feet.

Holy shit.

Holy shit!

Yoshitoki wanted Kaneki to find someone to infiltrate the  _Aogiri Tree_! That was fucking insane! Kaneki had seen what happened to low ranking ghouls involved with the organization, and only someone really fucking desperate would subject themselves to that!

On one hand, this was his chance to prove to the CCG that some ghouls could be trusted. On the other hand, what the fuck was he supposed to do? Walk into Anteiku and see who wanted to volunteer for this incredibly dangerous job?

Why would he put the people he loved in danger like that? They were why he was even doing this in the first place!

He wanted to scream. He might have. If Mutsuki hadn't been in the next room, he would have.

Kaneki turned the water off and stood for a few moments, his teeth clenched tight to keep any sort of desperate sound from coming from his mouth. He covered it for good measure, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply. This was so fucked up. A ghoul spy. A ghoul spying for the CCG on other ghouls. For what? Amnesty? Immunity? Could that even be a reality?

The CCG protecting ghouls?

Could that be a future in sight?

And if it was, then was it really worth the risk?

Could the CCG even be trusted to keep their word?

God, this was all fucked up.

He dried himself off hastily, his movements mechanical and his limbs still shaky. He thought he might have another panic attack. That scared him. He didn't want that to happen again.

As he was pulling on his sweatpants, he heard the door slam from the other room. He paused, listening carefully as there was silence. And then, without warning, there was an assortment of shouts, and a crashing noise.

"Kaneki!"

He bolted from the bathroom, skidding out into the living room and finding himself freezing in shock.

Mutsuki was half sprawled on the floor, a small knife clutched defensively in his fist. Only a yard or so away, Hide was sitting on his legs, rubbing his head irritably. While Mutsuki looked absolutely terrified, Hide's expression was merely a small frown, as if having a knife pointed at him was a slight inconvenience.

"What the hell...?" Kaneki breathed.

Both their heads snapped toward him. Hide's face lit up.

"Kaneki!" he cried, straightening up and clapping his hands against his knees. "You're home! Listen, buddy, this runt over here, he hit me over the head with a book! Can you believe that? A  _book_!"

"Kaneki, you…" Mutsuki's expression was wilting with his resolve as he grimaced at Hide. "You… know this guy…?"

"Uh, hi?" Hide waved dramatically. "Nagachika Hideyoshi. Hello? Kaneki's best friend ever? I should be asking the questions here! Who are you, small child?"

"I'm… not a child…?" Mutsuki's cheeks flushed deeply, turning his dark skin a deep rosy tint, and Kaneki nearly laughed. Slowly, Mutsuki lowered the knife. "I'm sorry I attacked you. I… I didn't realize. I'm very sorry, please forgive me!" Mutsuki seemed frantic. Damn. He'd even bolted up straight just to send himself into a bow.

Hide stared at Mutsuki blankly.

"Oh," he said, shooting a sharp glance at Kaneki. "Jeez. Listen, I was just messing with you. You don't have to apologize. I guess I did seem kinda threatening, since I had to pick the lock."

"You picked my lock?" Kaneki sighed. "Did you think to maybe knock?"

"I personally had no idea you were even home, like I thought this kid was just a squatter, to be honest?" Hide shot Mutsuki a sheepish smile. "No offense, it's not that you look like a squatter."

Mutsuki stared at him. His visible eye was very big. Very alarmed.

"Okay, please stop talking," Kaneki gasped, wincing at how Mutsuki's body language had changed. He was instantly just shrinking back into himself. "I'm going to go put a shirt on. Mutsuki, please put the knife back where you found it."

"O-okay…" Mutsuki sounded small and scared. "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay."

"It's okay that he almost skewered me?" Hide shouted after Kaneki. "Um, _rude_!"

By the time Kaneki snatched a shirt and shrugged it on, Hide was already sprawled on the couch, chatting amiably to Mutsuki as though Mutsuki weren't completely closing up, like a hermit crab retreated into its shell.

"—'cause usually, y'know, the spare key is above the door, so I just use that. But it wasn't there today, so, naturally, I picked the lock."

"If he does that again while you're here, Mutsuki, call the police," Kaneki said calmly as he entered the room. Hide's neck arched back against the armrest of the couch, and he pouted.

"You know I can't do prison, Kaneki," Hide said glumly. "I'm too much of a hipster! Do you know what'll happen if some buff prison dude takes one look at my bleached hair? He'll be like, I bet that kid is really crafty! I'll get him to do all my chores!"

"Hide… that's not… how prison…" Kaneki sighed. Why? Why did he even bother?

"So are you going to introduce us?" Hide launched himself upright, and he smiled at Mutsuki. This time the smile was warm and welcoming.

"Um… Hide, this is Mutsuki Tooru," Kaneki said slowly. "We're working together at the CCG. Oh, and he's going to live here for a little while."

"Here?" Hide blinked rapidly, and he glanced around the room. "How… is that going to work, exactly?"

"It'll be fine," Kaneki said firmly. "Don't worry. I've got this, okay?"

"If you say so."

When Mutsuki excused himself to take a shower, there was a blanket of silence between Kaneki and Hide. They both knew that this living situation was going to get cramped, but Hide did not bring it up again, and Kaneki was grateful. He didn't want Mutsuki to feel any worse about this. It wasn't his fault that the CCG had thrust him unprepared into the adult world. The boy was fifteen years old! The CCG seriously expected him to just be able to find a place to live on the fly like this? Kaneki had barely been able to function when he'd found himself trying to set up shelter somewhere other than his aunt's home.

And the city wasn't exactly kind to homeless kids.

"First of all," Hide started, taking a deep breath. "I'm really glad to see you. Like, seriously. I saw you losing hope back there, so it's nice to see you happy again."

Was Kaneki happy? He hadn't really noticed, but he supposed this level of contentment could be considered happiness.

"Second of all." Hide tilted his head. "What the hell happened?"

Kaneki sighed, and he closed his eyes. He sat down in the chair across from Hide, raking his hands through his wet hair. "Where do I begin…" He looked down at his lap, and he found himself shaken once more by the revelation of Yoshitoki's proposal. "Mutsuki… is like me."

"I noticed," Hide said flatly.

Kaneki glanced at Hide sharply. He merely smiled vacantly, and jerked his chin, prompting Kaneki to continue. "Apparently he was a student at the CCG's Academy. Like, their school for training investigators. So the CCG was offering kids to participate in this project, and if they could successfully complete it, they'd be able to become an investigator early."

"Are you saying they experimented… on kids…?" Hide's expression twisted slightly, a tight grimace appearing on his lips. "That doesn't sound right. Are you sure…?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Kaneki pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling as though he were about to get a terrible migraine. "Mutsuki didn't have anywhere to go. It's not fair at all. They turned him into a weapon, and then they let him fend for himself in Tokyo when he's still just a kid."

"Kaneki," Hide said gently. "You know you're still a kid too, right?"

"I'm ni— not that young," Kaneki snapped, catching himself quickly. "He's fifteen. And he's all alone in the world with powers he can't possibly understand yet. What was I supposed to do?"

Hide leaned forward, folding his hands over his mouth and staring vacantly into nothing. His warm brown eyes were glazed and distant, focused on something beyond this room and reaching far off to a point where not even Kaneki could grasp it.

"Were they trying to get rid of you?" Hide asked suddenly, his eyes flashing to Kaneki's face fearfully.

Kaneki sat in a stunned sort of silence. Well, technically, yes. They had been. But it hadn't worked very well.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Kaneki smiled sheepishly. "Don't think about it like that. Mutsuki had no idea I even existed until today."

"I don't blame him, or anything." Hide glanced at Kaneki's bedroom door, and his eyes softened. "Poor kid. Is the eye thing like yours?"

"I assume as much."

"Damn." Hide looked tired. That was something even Kaneki could notice about him, something clear in the way he quickly brushed his slightly swollen eyelid. His face was paler than usual, and even though his smile reached his eyes, Kaneki was beginning to suspect that was all completely fake. Something was up. Hide was clearly really stressed out, and he wasn't saying anything.

Well, Kaneki had been locked up for awhile. He supposed that was pretty damn distressing.

"I've got it!" Hide gasped, snapping his fingers. He looked at Kaneki, and he beamed. "I'll be his mom!"

Kaneki sat placidly, an empty smile sitting on his lips as he tried to process Hide's words. He glanced away sharply, decidedly keeping his comments to himself.

"What?" Hide whined, leaning forward. "I'm serious! He's a teenage boy, do you honestly think you've got what it takes to mom him? No fucking way, man!" Hide straightened up, and he looked overwhelmingly smug. "Nah, he needs a  _positive_  influence in his life. Bro, I love you, but you're about as positive as an animal shelter commercial."

"I'm actually really offended by that," Kaneki murmured.

"And plus you're like his mentor, right? Isn't that like a dad thing?"

"I don't know."

"Well, traditionally it's the dad who is really serious and goes to work and is there for the kid to look up to." Hide looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah. That sounds about right."

"You're ridiculous."

"Someone's gotta make sure he doesn't starve to death!" Hide leaned back in his seat, and he grinned broadly. Then his smile fell. "Oh. Shit, he can't eat normal food."

"No, he can." Kaneki shook his head. He didn't really understand it. "Apparently he's different from me somehow, so he doesn't have a ghoul's appetite."

"Oh, cool, so he really is going to starve to death." Hide's stare was actually half terrified. "This poor kid... Kaneki, you're tearing this family apart."

"Whenever I talk to you," Kaneki sighed, "I feel like I need to sleep for ten thousand years."

"Because you're that hyped to see me?" Hide laughed, jerking a finger at Kaneki's face. "Huh? Huh?"

"Not really."

Mutsuki decided to walk out at that moment, thankfully, so Kaneki was saved from Hide's faux hysterics. Immediately Hide jumped up, rushing to Mutsuki's side and catching him by the shoulders, not even minding the sharp shriek the boy let out as he was yanked into a hug.

"Don't worry, Mutsuki, son of mine, I won't let Kaneki starve you!"

"W-what?"

"Hide, let go of him," Kaneki sighed, wincing a little. Mutsuki looked mildly terrified, but mostly super uncomfortable, like he would cut off a limb to get out of this situation.

"Ah, sorry." Hide released Mutsuki quickly, looking sheepish. "You really are like Kaneki, huh? Don't you like hugs?"

Mutsuki seemed to recoil, and Kaneki felt angry on his behalf. "Hide, stop teasing him!"

"Ah!" Hide seemed to take note of Mutsuki's clear discomfort, and he waved his hands hurriedly. "Sorry! I'm sorry! That was really insensitive, you don't know me at all."

"It's…" Mutsuki hugged his stomach, his eye cast down toward the floor. "It's okay."

Hide stared at him, and he sighed. "No," he said. "It really isn't. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?"

Mutsuki gave a jerky nod.

Hide and Kaneki shared a glance. What a blatant lie.

Kaneki was growing more and more concerned for Mutsuki's well-being. He was so jittery and scared, and Kaneki understood why, but at the same time he sensed that he was missing something.

"Why don't you sit down, Mutsuki," Kaneki said, standing up and walking toward the kitchenette. Mutsuki was merely frozen in the doorway of Kaneki's room, completely stunned and mostly terrified. "Do you want coffee?"

"Bro, do you even know what time it is?"

Kaneki sighed. He glanced back at Hide. "Late?" he offered.

" _Way_  too late to have coffee." Hide shook his head furiously. "Nah, man, make some tea."

"Tea?" Kaneki grimaced. "In  _my_  house?"

"No wonder you're always so sad," Hide snickered, flopping back onto the couch. "Do you have anything in this apartment? Like anything substantial at all?"

"Um…" Kaneki didn't bother checking the fridge. He knew there was nothing in there. He looked in a few cupboards, and he pulled out a box of cereal.

"Lemme see," Hide said, offering out his hands. Kaneki tossed the box to him. As Hide examined the box, Kaneki continued to rummage. "Ew, this is super bland. Do you at least have sugar and milk?"

"I have sugar…" Kaneki found his sugar cup, and he glanced into it. There was a pretty dismal amount of sugar clumped at the bottom. "Never mind."

"Do you understand why I'm concerned you might starve here, Mutsuki?" Hide tutted softly. "Kaneki's a real mess."

"I'll go grocery shopping tomorrow…" He closed the pantry, feeling guilty for not being able to feed his guests. He hadn't known that this was going to happen! But still, it was his own fault for getting locked in Cochlea again. He felt like such a fool.

"It's okay, Kaneki," Mutsuki said gently from the floor beside the table. The air was suddenly filled with munching. Hide had shoved a mouthful of bran flakes into his mouth.

Kaneki wished he could afford an alarm system so Hide couldn't pull bullshit like this anymore.

In the back of his mind, he was aware of how selfish he was.

But he was happy like this. Happiness didn't come easily, so he relished in this moment.

* * *

It turned out that Mutsuki, unlike any other teenager Kaneki knew, rose with the fucking sun. Now, Kaneki didn't consider himself a lazy person, but he certainly didn't wake up early enough to watch light creep in through the window. Well, not willingly, anyway.

Mutsuki didn't know Kaneki was awake. He hadn't slept much— and it wasn't because he was sleeping on the couch. The couch was far comfier than what he was used to at this point. It was simply the foreign atmosphere of home that wired his brain to stay awake, stay alert, to never let his guard down. It felt terrible. He just wanted some fucking sleep.

Kaneki listened to Mutsuki move around inside his room. He wasn't being loud or anything, but Kaneki had tuned into the sound of soft shuffling, feet padding against the floor, a bed being made. As Kaneki continued to listen, he found that the sounds eventually stopped. He didn't know how long he listened for. He was waiting for more light to pool into the room, mostly.

Finally, he pushed himself upright. He knew he probably looked terrible. Like a zombie.  _Not too far off,_  he mused.

Kaneki had to muster up some courage to knock on the door. He did it, but he felt a strange surge of instant regret.

There was a moment of silence. It rung inside his ears, and made his nerves dance.

The door swung open slowly. Mutsuki's big, dark eye gleamed up at him.

"Good morning," he murmured. He was already dressed, his hair combed as neatly as possible considering how choppy it was. He wore a dark blazer and dress pants, presumably the nicest thing he owned.

"Morning." Kaneki tilted his head, and he smiled weakly. "What time did you wake up?"

"Um, just a little while ago," Mutski said sheepishly, stepping aside so Kaneki could walk in. "It's… still pretty early. We don't have to be at work for a few more hours."

"True." Kaneki rifled through his drawers. He'd ruined his last suit. What was he going to do now? "I was thinking we'd get breakfast, though, since I haven't got anything here to eat."

"Oh!" Mutsuki gasped. His voice had brightened considerably, and when Kaneki looked at his face, he saw excitement glowing there. He thought, perhaps, that this might be the first time he was seeing Mutsuki excited. "That sounds fun."

"Yeah!" Kaneki smiled. He was happy that Mutsuki was so thrilled by something as ordinary as getting breakfast out. "Do you like sweets and stuff?"

"You mean like… cake?" Mutsuki offered a small shrug. "It depends what kind, I guess."

"Understandable." Kaneki tossed a white shirt onto his bed, and he dug through his drawer for a pair of pants. "What about coffee?"

"I like coffee."

"Great!" Kaneki yanked a pair of trousers from his drawer and straightened up. "I know a really nice place not too far from here. Hide and I go there a lot."

He wanted to establish his connection to Anteiku early so Mutsuki wouldn't be suspicious later on if Kaneki ended up there somehow. Also, Kaneki felt the need to go visit and see how things were doing.

They ended up walking quietly, Mutsuki's gaze wandering around the city as they went. It was a big city, so doubtless this was a new place and a new experience for him. That must have been exciting. Kaneki wondered what happened between the ages of fifteen and nineteen when the world lost its glow, and being exposed to something new lost its charm.

"What was the ghoul hunting school like?" Kaneki asked suddenly. He just wanted to break the silence.

Mutsuki had been smiling when he'd turned his face to Kaneki, but his eye was sad. "You're pretty insistent with the "ghoul hunting" thing," he said with a small laugh. It made Kaneki smile regardless. "Um, it was… I don't know. It was fine."

Kaneki knew Mutsuki was lying, but he decided not to press the issue.

"What about college?" Mutsuki asked eagerly. "How was that?"

Kaneki laughed right back. "Oh," he gasped, glancing away sharply. "Uh… stressful. Not gonna lie."

"Isn't school always, though?"

Kaneki snorted, and he nodded slowly. "Honestly, yeah." He missed school, but at the same time he didn't miss school at all. How awful. "I guess now that I think about it, school was always really shitty. I like learning new things, but I hated the pressure."

"I get that," Mutsuki murmured.

They stopped before Anteiku's doors, and Mutsuki stared as Kaneku held the door open for him. "What?" Kaneki asked when Mutsuki hesitated.

"N-nothing," Mutsuki gasped. "It's just a really nice place. That's all."

Kaneki felt a kind of swell of pride for Anteiku that was probably misplaced, since he didn't exactly work there anymore. Touka was working, which made him pause to think. Was it a Sunday? Shit.

"Hello, Touka," Kaneki said politely. She was watching him with a dull expression, but he could tell she wanted to beat the shit out of him. It hurt a little, but he was too glad to see her to really care.

"Two?" she asked mechanically.

"Yeah…"

"Take a seat."

Kaneki stared at her as Mutsuki went ahead to sit down. She stared back. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. He offered her a weak smile, and he followed Mutsuki to a table. Being in here made nostalgia creep back. Also, it hit him like a punch in a gut that the last time he'd been here, he'd failed to save Ryouko.

"Are you okay?"

Kaneki looked up at Mutsuki sharply. He looked worried.

"Fine," Kaneki said, shaking his head. "Just thinking. Anyway, order whatever you want!"

"Um… okay." Mutsuki blinked rapidly as Kaneki shoved a menu into his hands. "What are you getting?"

"Oh." Kaneki hadn't thought that far ahead. He twisted in his chair. "Touka, what's the special today?"

She glanced at him sharply. "A red eye," she said cautiously, as though she feared she might snap something rude at him.

"What's that?" Mutsuki whispered.

"It's just coffee with a shot of espresso," Kaneki replied.

"Oh."

"Make sure you eat something as well," Kaneki reminded. "I feel bad."

"Why would you feel bad?" Mutsuki gasped, leaning back abruptly. "I… I mean, honestly, Kaneki, you've been so kind to me, I… I feel like I owe you a lot."

"Aha… no." Kaneki stared at Mutsuki. "Seriously. No. Don't think you owe me for anything. You really don't."

"O-okay…"

"Are you two ready to order?" Touka was careful not to look impatient, but Kaneki could tell she was pissed at him. She just had to put on a nice face for the other customers. She was so good at her job, it was really astounding.

"I'll have the special," Kaneki said. It felt so weird to order things here. He wanted to make the coffee himself. He ached for it, really.

"I'll just have a cappuccino," Mutsuki said quietly. Kaneki stared at him expectantly as Touka wrote that down. "Ah! Uh… um, and… and…"

"Ah, can you please just get him a pastry? Cake, or whatever you're serving today?" Kaneki really felt weird doing this. The last time he'd made an order to Touka, he'd set in motion that terrible date with Rize. It felt like so long ago. Another life.

And it had been.

That was so strange to think about.

"Sure," Touka said. She glanced at Mutsuki. "Is that okay?"

"Y-yes! Thank you!"

Touka watched him. Her brow furrowed, and she nodded curtly. She then set to work behind the counter. Mutsuki immediately relaxed. Then he glanced up at Kaneki confusedly.

"Are you not going to eat something?" he asked innocently.

Kaneki smiled, and he looked down at his hands. Mutsuki immediately realized his mistake, and he gasped, clamping his hands over his mouth.

"I'm so sorry," he blurted, jerking back. "Oh. Oh no, I'm so sorry, I forgot—I—"

"Mutsuki." Kaneki leaned forward, watching Mutsuki with a long, sad stare. "Please calm down. I'm not angry. I'm not going to get angry at you. Please don't be so nervous around me."

The boy merely stared at him. If possible, he tensed up more, shrinking back into himself as if he simply could not bear to be here any longer, to be in this constant state of fear. Yes. That was what this was. Fear.

Mutsuki was terrified of him.

Why hadn't Kaneki realized this sooner?

"I'm sorry," Kaneki said, sinking into his chair. His eyes were wide. This was awful. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. And it was his own goddamn fault, too. He'd been scary! He couldn't even blame Mutsuki for being inherently frightened, because his first impression of Kaneki had been of him lashing out. How shitty was that?

"What?" Mutsuki gasped. "What are you apologizing to me for?"

"You're scared of me," Kaneki sighed, "right?"

Mutsuki seemed to freeze up. "No… no, that's not…" He wasn't looking at Kaneki. His eye was wide, and he looked confused. Like maybe he hadn't even realized it himself. "Oh… oh."

"I get it." Kaneki offered a smile. "I know I can be scary. But I'd never intentionally scare you, and I definitely will  _never_  hurt you. So please don't be scared anymore. Okay?"

Mutsuki stared. Quickly, he nodded, and he managed a weak smile. "Okay," he said, his body slowly relaxing. "Um… I'm really sorry. It's not that you're scary. You're really, really nice. I think I… I'm just not used to that. I've been trying to figure out why, exactly, you know… you decided to do this for me." Mutsuki lowered his eyes. He looked suddenly very tired. "I thought that there must be something in it for you."

Even though it hurt that Mutsuki had distrusted him from the very beginning, Kaneki appreciated that Mutsuki was telling him this. He felt like it was a step forward, in the right direction, and that Mutsuki would definitely open up from here. That was such a relief.

However, this was probably the biggest difference Kaneki could pinpoint between himself and Mutsuki.

See, Kaneki never suspected anyone of having an ulterior motive. That was how he'd come to be here in the first place. But Mutsuki was so wary, so careful, and that was probably a wiser way to live life. After all, Kaneki had gotten himself into some shit because of his gullibility.

"I really don't want anything from you," Kaneki said blankly. "Honestly, I wish it wasn't this awkward. We're total strangers. But we have to work together. And, hopefully everything will work out."  _And the CCG doesn't kill me after you figure out how to release your kagune_ , he thought, glancing away.

Touka came around and set their coffees down. "The cake will be a little while longer," she said, straightening up. "It hasn't been made yet."

"Ah, I'm sorry…" Mutsuki sighed.

"No, don't be." Touka smiled at him, which caused him to stare at her in wonder. "We had to make it anyway, so don't worry. Also, Kaneki, the manager wants to speak with you."

"Huh?" Mutsuki glanced at Kaneki bemusedly. "Manager?"

"Right." Kaneki nodded to her, ignoring Mutsuki's blatant confusion. "Can I head up any time, then? Or does it have to be this very minute?"

"Listen," she sighed, glancing around the shop. "I'm saying this off record. I, personally, do not care when you go. But knowing the manager, your coffee won't be warm when you get back."

He cracked a grin at her. "Noted," he said brightly. She looked at him, and for a moment she looked almost curious. Then she turned around, and she walked back to the counter without another word.

"You know the manager?" Mutsuki asked in awe. "Do you really come here that often?"

"Ah…" Kaneki laughed nervously. "The manager owns the building. I know a few people who live here, so it's not that weird."

He had to convince Mutsuki that this wasn't weird. Because it was. It was really weird. Suspicious, even? He didn't know. He didn't want to know. He was scared something might happen because he brought Mutsuki here, but he didn't think there was anything bad about Mutsuki. He was such a nice kid! Right?

But then again, Kaneki had a bad habit of trusting the wrong people.

He took a sip of his coffee, and he tried to smile and pass it all off as fine. Mutsuki seemed smarter than that, though. Like he was reading right through Kaneki's lies.

As they continued to drink their coffees, Kaneki tentatively changed to subject to novels. Mutsuki seemed happy to jump in and offer his own favorites, which were mostly classics. That made Kaneki happy to hear, and he thought about bringing up Takatsuki Sen, but he considered that might be a little too much for Mutsuki.

"When I was little I used to read this weird old American series," Mutsuki said, smiling down at his mug. "It was a bunch of mystery books."

" _Goosebumps_?"

"Ah, no, that was creepy," Mutsuki laughed uneasily. "No… noo…" Mutsuki covered his face. "Those gave me nightmares!"

"I always thought they were really funny…"

"No way," Mutsuki groaned. "They were so weird. My brother had the American editions, and the covers were…" Mutsuki paused, falling completely silent and staring down at his hands. "Oh. I remember now, it was  _The Hardy Boys._ "

"Never heard of it." Kaneki was surprised, honestly. He wanted to know more.

"Oh. It was like, um…" Mutsuki bounced his head from side to side. " _Nancy Drew_? But the, uh, "boy" version, or whatever…" Mutsuki used air quotations, looking a little puzzled. "I read  _Nancy Drew_  too, but there were more  _Hardy Boys_  books. I liked both. Oh, and  _Sherlock Holmes_ , I loved Sherlock Holmes."

"It sounds like you were setting yourself up to become a detective," Kaneki said amusedly. Mutsuki flushed, and he thumbed the sides of his mug, looking sheepish.

"They were mostly my brother's books," Mutsuki murmured. "I just read them and ended up liking them a whole lot."

Kaneki didn't want to ask. He knew what it was like to lose loved ones, and he could hear the sadness in Mutsuki's voice. But Kaneki didn't care. He didn't care what had happened to Mutsuki's brother, or why he was on his own, floundering in an adult world when he was still so young and defenseless.

Because Mutsuki was opening up to him.

That was the thing that mattered.

"I better run upstairs real quick," Kaneki said. "You still have to eat, so is it okay if I…?"

"Yeah." Mutsuki smiled, and for once he looked comfortable. "Go ahead. I'll be here."

"Thanks. I'll be right back!" He made eye contact with Touka as he rounded the counter. She shot him an irritated glance, and she went back to wiping down the counter with a rag.

He felt strange as he walked up the stairwell. Like he'd done this all before. And the weirdest part was for once, he hadn't. Mutsuki was completely new. He was a variable that he hadn't anticipated. And for once, that wasn't a bad thing. Well, maybe it was a little shitty for Mutsuki himself, but at least the boy could still eat normally for now. That was a relief.

Kaneki was sad that this had happened, but he couldn't blame Mutsuki for existing. It'd be hypocritical.

"Kaneki." He was caught by the shoulder as he'd made his way down a hall. "Touka told me you were here, but I couldn't quite believe it."

He turned around, and he smiled weakly. "Here I am," he said, offering a small shrug. "Surprise. I'm alive."

"Well I didn't doubt that." Yoshimura smiled down at him. "Come, let's sit down and talk."

"Yeah…" Kaneki knew that would be for the best. Especially with the news he had. He didn't even know if he was doing the right thing. But he figured Yoshimura could do with the information what he wanted. It wasn't Kaneki's place to make the call.

He settled into a seat across from his old manager, watching the man's wizened face as he folded his hands in his lap.

"I'd like to begin by thanking you," Yoshimura said, looking so terribly earnest. His gray brows knitted together, and he closed his eyes. "The amount of courage it must have taken to stand up to those investigators astounds me. You are a very brave young man, Kaneki."

It made him slightly uncomfortable to be praised, especially considering he'd done nothing in the end but land himself in Cochlea. But it was nice anyway, to hear Yoshimura sound so proud of him.

"That's really kind of you," Kaneki said, "but I couldn't save Ryouko. I… I tried, sir, I really—"

"I am fully aware of that," Yoshimura said calmly. "I appreciate your honesty, but truly, if you had told me the situation beforehand, I would have advised against taking action." He smiled wanly. "You are a braver man than I am."

"Please don't say that…" Kaneki was filled with thoughts of the Aogiri and Anteiku raids, and he knew that was not true at all. But Yoshimura would never believe that.

"As for your decision to trust Nagachika," Yoshimura said, his smile turning oddly fond, "I'll commend you. He's been consistently helpful after the past few weeks. Hinami adores him."

Kaneki perked up hopefully. "She does?"

"She's been asking after you quite a lot." Yoshimura was nodding. "Though by the looks of it, you're on your way to work. You should stop by later, if you can. She's been very sad, and I think seeing you might cheer her up."

"I…" Kaneki had wanted to avoid coming here. He'd wanted to build up a wall between himself and Anteiku to keep it safe. No matter the cost. Why couldn't he do that? Why was it so hard? "I'll visit her as soon as I can. But, sir, I actually have some interesting news." Kaneki looked away. "I'm not sure how to handle it. It's… what I wanted, but I can't help but feel wary of it."

Yoshimura straightened up. "Please," he said, nodding curtly. "Tell me."

Kaneki took a deep breath. "When I was released from Cochlea, I was taken to the CCG's headquarters. The main one in the first ward. I met with the Director of the CCG, who… I managed to get alone. And I talked to him." Kaneki's brow furrowed as he recalled the eccentric man. Washuu Yoshitoki. Where to even start with him… "And he _listened_. He actually considered the idea of integrating ghouls within the CCG."

"Ghouls?" Yoshimura sounded plainly shocked. "In the CCG?"

"It sounds insane, I know, but look at me!" Kaneki's eyes widened. "I'm here. I'm still here, in spite of everything… in spite of going rogue and defending Ryouko, I'm still alive. It might just be because I'm useful, but it's still  _something_."

"I'm not entirely sure what you're saying," Yoshimura stated, leaning back in his chair. "One person in the CCG who possibly wants to make a drastic change is not enough to initiate it."

"He might be, if he's the Director." Kaneki stared into Yoshimura's eyes. He exhaled sharply. "Listen, I know how this sounds. It's ridiculous. It's dangerous. But this man told me that if I could find a ghoul willing to be a spy for the CCG, he'd hire them."

"A spy?" Yoshimura seemed to relax a little. "Well that's far less concerning. Tell me more about that."

"I wasn't given any real details," Kaneki said cautiously. "But I'm pretty sure it has to do with an organization called the Aogiri Tree."

Yoshimura frowned deeply. He averted his gaze, looking somber. "I see," he said. "A spy to feed information. I've heard rumors of this Aogiri Tree, but I never thought I'd have to address it myself."

"They're dangerous." Kaneki stared into Yoshimura's face. He leaned forward insistently. "I'm not saying that as a dove, I'm saying that as a ghoul. They're not helping anyone. They're just needlessly violent and cruel."

"There are ghouls like that, Kaneki," Yoshimura admitted, "but it is not wise to judge an entire group by a few bad examples."

A shudder ran through him.

Was he beginning to think like a ghoul investigator?

Or was it just because he hated the Aogiri Tree with everything in him? Which, albeit, was not entirely that much. But it was just fucking enough. Just enough.

"You're right," Kaneki murmured. "I'm sorry."

"I'll have someone look into this Aogiri Tree," Yoshimura said. "And then we will decide if it is in our best interest to pursue this. Aiding the CCG in taking down a massive organization could be catastrophic for Anteiku."

Another shudder shot through him, and he realized how blind he was.

By pursuing this mindless goal, by trying so hard to convince everyone around him that ghouls weren't all bad, he might just end up exactly where he started.

Lying in a bed of corpse with Anteiku crumbling to dust, and a sword piercing through his eye and into his brain and out the back of his skull.

Would he ever learn?

"He said he'd consider immunity," Kaneki murmured, "but I'm not sure how serious that is. I can't tell if I trust him."

"This man is clearly very intelligent," Yoshimura sighed. "Whoever he is, he knew immediately that for this plan to work, he could not use you. That would solve his problems very simply. No, he knows that any ghoul would be able to tell you're half human if you were around them for long enough. So he turns to an unconventional option." Yoshimura looked exhausted, but strangely curious. "To entrust a ghoul. I see. It would be a gamble on both sides. So if the spy pulls through with the best intel they could give, logically this man should pull through with granting immunity." Yoshimura chuckled to himself, and he closed his eyes peacefully. "But that's merely wishful thinking. There's no telling if it would actually work."

"Unless we tried it," Kaneki murmured.

Yoshimura glanced at him. He smiled. "Yes," he admitted. "Unless we tried."

Kaneki excused himself after that. He'd said what he'd had to say, and now he had to get himself and Mutsuki to work before Amon found them and…? Kaneki didn't know. He doubted he'd be getting a bullet this time though.

Walking down the stairs, inhaling the overwhelming scent of freshly ground coffee beans, he was hit with another bout of nostalgia. He remembered Touka chiding him in the kitchen, yanking on his ear and lecturing him about the proper beans to use and when and how. He remembered sparring with her below the street, the endlessly achy days and the determination he'd felt. He remembered it all going sour, and he remembered another life, with Hinami and Banjou and Tsukiyama. Trying their best. To do what? What had that even amounted to? In the end?

Even though it felt like he was amounting to a zero sum, he missed it.

He wished he could go back again. He just wanted to see everyone. For them to see him, and remember.

As he pushed open the door and walked into the shop, he was struck frozen for a moment. He remembered his conversation with Mutsuki about  _Goosebumps_ , about the eerie surrealism locked inside short, spooky little tales. He remembered his favorite story.

 _Be Careful What You Wish For_ …

The last thing he'd wanted was to see Tsukiyama Shuu sitting across from Mutsuki, his elbow resting on the table and his chin sitting in his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reneo, renere.  
> to unravel, undo.


	12. mollipes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is gonna just be like "how many of my own personal headcanons can i endorse to the masses."
> 
> ahh, i feel like it's been awhile. luckily, i'm done with exams, and i've finished writing both of the other multichaps i was writing, so updates for this should be more regular. also, god help me, this fic is going to be so long.
> 
> bear with me. i'm like 80% sure of what i'm doing. usually.

It was easy to fall into old rhythms when old memories came bubbling up like blood from beneath a freshly picked scab. She was becoming irritable lately, impatient and ready to fight at the drop of a hat. She felt like she needed to be on the defensive consistently, like she wasn't living for herself but for the empty bed across from hers.

The bed wasn't empty anymore though. When she woke up from a usual nightmare, gasping and jittery, her eyes sliding to the other bed on reflex, she found a little lump bundled beneath the blankets.

And she relaxed, because even though Hinami was not the person that she'd wanted to see, seeing her was comforting.

"Touka?" Hinami didn't raise her head. She merely opened her eyes, big and dark in the shadows of the room. They reflected the gaping contrasts of the streetlights shimmering through the window and the blacks and grays that skittered across the floor. When Hinami spoke, it sent the shadows scattering, and Touka allowed herself to slump.

"I'm okay, Hinami," Touka told the girl gently. "Go back to sleep."

It hadn't even been a nightmare. It had just been a hazy memory.

She thought about it now, her heels molding into the soles of her shoes, coffee burning the hair out of her nose, customers streaming in and out and leaving her instinctively numb. She watched people brush by her, but if any of them looked into her eyes they'd find the reflection of two kids stumbling through Anteiku's front door staring back at them.

She'd been fourteen. Ayato had been twelve.

They hadn't been hurt  _badly_. She remembered Ayato chiding her that they'd heal up fast, that Old Man Yoshimura never had to know. But they'd tracked blood into Anteiku. Ayato's arm was draped over her shoulders as she dragged him through the empty café, his bloody leg trailing behind him. She remembered how his fingers dug into her collarbone, his nails biting against her jacket. His head lolled, and he'd groaned.

"This was your fault," Ayato had grumbled. "Why'd you retreat?"

"Because I realized we were fucking outmatched, stupid," Touka had snapped through gritted teeth, readjusting her grip so she was gathering him beneath the arms. "Knowing when to bow out is smarter than fighting tooth and nail, barely scraping by, and never accomplishing anything before you die."

"What do you know about death?" Ayato had sneered, his eyes snapping furiously at her face. "You always do this! Why are you so afraid of being strong?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Touka dragged him toward the steps. It had been a struggle to yank the door open, she remembered. She'd been grappling with Ayato's weight against her side, and she remembered the thoughts that had been whistling through her mind.  _He's getting too heavy for me to be carrying him_ , she'd thought,  _to be supporting him_.

"You don't even try," he spat. "You just give up when it gets a little tough, a little gritty. Look at you! Your dress got a little dirty, your nose a little bloody, your lip a little bruised— and that's it. You didn't even fucking try."

"You got hurt," she'd hissed, throwing him a furious glare. "I'm doing this for you!"

"We could've beaten him back if you hadn't retreated," he'd said bitterly, his eyes filled with heat and hatred. "Coward."

"I'm going to drop you down the fucking stairs," she warned him, "and then you can really deal with Old Man Yoshimura."

"Go ahead," he dared her, his eyes raising to her face and flashing with undefinable heat. "I'll tell him the reason why I got hurt. 'Cause you're useless and slow and you can't even back me up."

"That's not true," Touka had hissed, feeling a pang of guilt even in spite of her own objection. "I backed off after you got hurt, because I needed to assess the situation. Fighting isn't just throwing yourself into a life or death situation, Ayato. Like, we didn't get into that fight with the intention of dying."

"No," he muttered, "we went in with the intention of  _winning_."

Touka almost rolled her eyes. Sure, maybe they'd thought they could win at the start, but it became abundantly clear that they weren't going to win without some sacrifice. Once Ayato got hurt, Touka had decidedly thrown in the towel and dragged him out of it. Wasn't that what a good sister was supposed to do? Stop her dumb fucking younger brother from fucking himself up even worse?

If he hadn't been there, would she have kept fighting?

Probably.

They weren't so different. Not really.

They were both just bad kids.

In the end she helped him wrap his wound, kneeling on his bed with his leg in her lap. The bleeding would stop eventually, and it would heal in a day or two. He'd looked tired, reclining into a pillow and staring at her dully. He wasn't yelling anymore, as though he'd yelled himself out, as if perhaps he'd run out of things to yell at her for. She wondered if the pain had caught up to him, and now he was suffering silently, allowing her this small gift of intimacy just because he had no other choice.

He'd nodded off while she'd pinned his bandage into place. It felt nostalgic to put him to bed, like she was treading on old, rickety wood, the same panels that old heroes had treaded upon centuries before. Like she knew that the floor beneath her would give out at any moment, so she had to cherish the moments she had left standing.

She should've been trying to savor the time she had left. Wanting to protect Ayato was a foreign feeling now, even if it was pure and instinctual, so rooted within her that it reared its ugly head whenever she woke up.

And now she was living out her days wondering where the hell he went, or who the hell would care if he was gone for good.

"Sorry for the wait," she told the boy with the eyepatch as she set a slice of cake before him. She could smell it, and it made her stomach turn. "Is that all?"

"Um, yes." The boy looked sheepish. He watched his cake dully, and then he raised his eye back to her. "Are you Kaneki's friend?"

She resisted the urge to scoff. It was a very valiant effort, honestly, she should really be awarded with some grand honor or something.

"No," she said flatly. "I'm not."

"Really?" He looked so surprised. She sighed, and she hugged her elbows. The boy turned away, nodding curtly. "Ah. I see."

"Why?" She stood stiffly, glancing around the shop to make sure she wasn't needed elsewhere before starting this conversation she had a feeling she'd regret. "I mean, you probably know him better than I do."

"I only just met him," he admitted, lifting his fork without actually breaking into the cake. "I was hoping to get another person's… um, opinion, I guess?"

"He's a piece of work," Touka said. She knew she couldn't speak as if she knew Kaneki Ken, and she knew if she did she'd just say something bad, so she left her opinion at that.

The boy glanced at her nervously. Touka found herself a little guilty, and she sighed. "Listen," she told him in the kindest voice she could manage, "that guy may be a little strange, but he's not a bad person. Whatever you're nervous about, just forget about it. You're probably worrying over nothing."

And with that, she turned sharply on her heel and strode back to the counter. She wondered, wiping down her workspace, who she'd really been talking to just now. That boy with the eyepatch, or herself?

It was annoying. She didn't want to like or befriend Kaneki, but at the same time she couldn't just dismiss his efforts. He was trying very hard to make changes within the CCG. That was alarming in itself, someone who was willing to take such a risk, someone who continuously proved her wrong. She was exhausted of her own pessimism.

But it was so hard to change.

The boy ate the cake silently, and she watched dully. She assumed he was CCG, but at the same time she was wary. Why would that asshole bring an investigator here? God damn it, Kaneki was so confusing. Why couldn't he just pick a fucking side and stick with it?

She heard the door swing open, the quick tinkling bell going off sharply, and she turned instinctively, her hands resting against the counter as she leaned forward.

"Welcome…" She trailed off, her mouth clamping shut.

What was that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall come?

It was like the universe knew he'd passed her mind within the past twenty four hours, like just a glimmer of thought was enough to summon him from the fucking crypt he crawled out of.

"What a nice smell…" Tsukiyama closed his eyes as he lifted his chin, his nostrils flaring subtly as he inhaled the scent of the coffee shop. His eyes slid open, and he leaned against the door leisurely, a knowing smile widening on his lips. "As I thought, this place has really calmed down."

Touka exhaled. She looked down at her hands against the countertop, and she watched her fingers slide sharply into fists.

He strode into the shop, holding up his hand and beaming at her. "Long time no see, Kirishima," he chirped.

 _Is this a joke_ , she thought numbly.  _Why is my life like this? Why is this asshole more frequent in my life than my fucking brother?_

"Why are you here?" she asked flatly, glancing away from him sharply. She just wanted him to take a fucking hint.

"Oh no…" Tsukiyama was still smiling. She wasn't surprised, but she was distinctly unnerved. "Can't I just come here to see your faces for a little while?" He offered up a lofty sigh, as if contemplating which expensive Gucci jacket to buy, a dilemma truly for the ages. "Kirishima, you're as cold as ever. Well…" He shot her a look that he probably thought was suave or like, seductive or something, but in actuality it made her stomach clench up anxiously. It was the kind of feeling she got when she was wandering an unknown ward at night, all alone. The feeling before you were about to get jumped. "That's what's appealing about you, though."

She didn't even care that there were customers around at this point.

"You're so creepy, you smug bastard," she said dully, leaning away from the counter as he sidled up close. Could he just… not? Not do this? Not now, not when there were people around. As she was averting her gaze, she met the eye of the tiny boy that Kaneki had brought in. His singular eye was open wide, and she saw his fingers gripping his coat hem tightly. There was something strained about his positioning, as though he'd suddenly found himself under an immense amount of pressure.

Tsukiyama's eyes whisked to where hers had landed. The boy jerked back, as though he hadn't expected Tsukiyama to take notice to him.

"An eyepatch, huh?" Tsukiyama cocked his head. He patted the counter twice, tossing his bangs out of his eyes, and he let his smile become more subdued, less predatory. Of course. You don't catch prey with sugar that had already baked too long and had become caramelized. Even Tsukiyama, as ridiculous as he was, knew that. So he moved at calm pace, casual and smart. "That eyepatch is really cool! Is it a fashion statement?"

The boy stared at Tsukiyama. Self-consciously, his hand flew to his eyepatch, and he shrunk back a little. "Um," he said in a high, reedy voice. "No."

"Really?" Tsukiyama, subtle as he was, plopped right down across from the boy and rested his chin in his hand. "It looks so nice with your complexion though. You're  _hafu_ , right?" Tsukiyama smiled, leaning forward. Touka saw him angling his head back so his nose was pointed toward the boy. "How exotic."

"Tsukiyama," Touka warned. "Stop being creepy and rude. Get out of here already!"

Tsukiyama huffed softly, his eyes never leaving the boy's face. "You're completely inelegant…" he murmured. It made her blood boil. This guy. This guy—!

" _So this is the humble home of the Kirishima siblings_ ," he'd hummed once, the first time he'd ever walked into Anteiku, his hands in his pockets and his eyes raking hungrily around the coffee shop. Ayato, who'd been sitting on a stool beside Touka, still nursing his wounded leg, had nearly leapt at him. Touka had to hold him back. She couldn't stop him from yelling obscenities, though. And frankly, she hadn't wanted to.

"Um…" The boy was leaning away, his eyes darting anywhere that wasn't Tsukiyama's face. Touka didn't think he looked flustered or embarrassed. No, he looked uncomfortable. Maybe even frightened.  _Does he know Tsukiyama is a ghoul?_  Touka wondered, finding herself half leaning over the counter to snap at Tsukiyama once more.

The door beside the counter opened at that moment. Touka glanced at Kaneki as he stepped out the door and looked to the boy. Immediately Kaneki froze, his face falling. He looked as if he'd just walked into a funeral by accident.

The boy jumped to his feet upon seeing Kaneki, looking unbearably relieved. Tsukiyama blinked, glancing over his shoulder as Kaneki very slowly began to approach them. Touka was stunned at how suddenly the vibe had changed, like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"Hey," she gasped, reaching over the counter and snagging Kaneki by the sleeve. He jerked to a stop, as though her nails were talons and they'd torn into his flesh. "You're gonna pay, right?"

His head was bowed. She couldn't see his face, but she could tell that he was having some sort of internal conflict that he couldn't resolve quickly enough to respond immediately. The boy had started forward tentatively.

"I can—" he began eagerly, sticking his hand into the pocket of his jacket.

"No way," Kaneki blurted, jolting out of whatever daze he'd been put in. The atmosphere of the room returned to somewhat normal. Kaneki retrieved his wallet from his pocket and handed Touka a card.

"Kaneki—!" the boy objected, looking a little guilty as he watched Touka swipe the card. She wanted to tell him that it hadn't even been that much, and that worrying about stuff like this would just make him stressed and uptight all the time. She didn't though.

"Touka," Kaneki said, his hand clapping against the boy's shoulder. He spoke her name with a thoughtless sort of familiarity, syllables falling off his tongue softly, fondly.  _Touka-chan_  didn't sound like a cat call coming from his lips as it did from Hide's. "I just remembered. Could you take Mutsuki upstairs to Hinami?"

Touka nearly laughed in disbelief. She nearly scoffed and asked why. Why the hell should she do that? But then she saw his eyes. He was staring at her with a hollowness to his gaze she felt like had never been there before. Like he was sad, and pleading, and he had no other choice but to beseech her, to hope for her mercy, hope she'd play along to whatever scheme this was. And it was a scheme, for sure.

She wasn't sure what he was trying to insinuate until his eyes slid back to the table. Tsukiyama had stood up, and was sort of just hovering behind them.

Ah.

 _Smart guy,_  she thought with mild praise. She nodded quickly, sliding Kaneki his card and receipt. "Yeah," she said. "Of course. Let me just get Irimi to come up front."

"What's this, Kirishima?" Tsukiyama called after her as she turned toward the kitchen. "You know it's the polite thing to make introductions between old and new friends!"

"We're not friends," Touka called back heatedly, her fists clenching at her sides. She could never tell with him— if he was really this deluded and blind, or if he just liked fucking with her. Maybe it was a mix of both? Jeez.

"What's happening out there?" Irimi asked amusedly, smirking at Touka as stomped into the kitchen.

"Tsukiyama showed up," Touka muttered. "Now I've gotta babysit this kid Kaneki dragged in."

"Kaneki?" Irimi stopped what she was doing— decorating another cake— and she splayed her icing stained hands. "Wait a minute. He got out of Cochlea? When did that happen?"

"Who knows?" Touka folded her arms across her chest. "I don't really care. But Tsukiyama's eying the kid— for god knows what reason. So I'm going to take the kid upstairs."

"Upstairs…?" Irimi wiped her hands off on her apron, and her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Touka opened her mouth. She closed it immediately. She didn't know why. She hadn't asked. So she shrugged. "Beats me," she said. "But if it pisses of Tsukiyama, I'm all for it."

"You really shouldn't go looking for trouble," Irimi chuckled, brushing past her. Touka stood for a moment, watching her leave. She glanced around the kitchen, and she considered that this Mutsuki kid wasn't from the CCG. Was he a ghoul? She was assuming he was, but she couldn't… really tell. Was he a normal human, then? He was young. Now that Touka actually looked at him, listened to him, she could tell that he was just like any other high school kid. So he couldn't be a dove.

Right?

She stepped back into the front of the shop, finding that Kaneki had positioned himself deliberately between Tsukiyama and Mutsuki. She had to admit that Kaneki was sensible, at least. Whatever he planned to do, he intended to keep Mutsuki as far away from it as possible.

"Come on, Mutsuki," she said to the boy without looking at him. She opened the door to the stairwell and waited for him to catch up. He scrambled to catch the door behind her, half turning to look back at Kaneki. "Stop dawdling. I'm not supposed to take a break until later, and this is cutting into that time."

"Ah," Mutsuki gasped, skipping steps to catch up to her frantically. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. She didn't actually care that much. Getting away from Tsukiyama meant she could cool down. She felt guilty for leaving Irimi to deal with it though.

"What was with that guy?" Mutsuki blurted. Touka glanced at him.  _Human_ , she thought sadly. Poor kid. He was so naïve. "He was so…"

"Creepy?" Touka offered.

Mutsuki's lips tightened, and he looked down at his feet. Touka snorted. He wasn't going to say it. This kid was probably too nice or something. God damn it.

"You picked up on that before he even noticed you," Touka noted. "And he was actually acting pretty normal today."

"He was being really gross," Mutsuki said cautiously.

Touka glanced at him in surprised. "Racist, you mean?"

"No— well, yes, but I didn't get that vibe until he called me… um… 'exotic,'" Mutsuki sighed, using air quotations. "I actually meant when he was talking to you earlier. He was hitting on you, and you definitely weren't reciprocating."

"He wasn't really hitting on me," Touka muttered, closing her eyes. She had to tell herself that just to feel somewhat clean. There was no real romantic desire attached to Tsukiyama's ceaseless flattery coupled with classist insults. She'd come to realize he probably wanted to observe her in some weird way, probe her for reactions, maybe fight her again. She often didn't give him the benefit of a reaction simply because she knew it was what he wanted. But it was hard. He was just so shitty.

"Oh…" Mutsuki grimaced. "Sorry. That's just what it looked like."

"Ha, I know exactly what it looked like." Touka scowled ahead of her. "Listen, don't go anywhere near that guy. He's trouble."

"I figured that out," Mutsuki said sheepishly, smiling shyly at his feet. "I'm scared about what Kaneki's going to do, though."

Touka wanted to scoff at that, but she had to admit he had a point. Kaneki Ken had proved himself to be utterly unpredictable. "It's probably better if you don't think about that." Touka unlocked the door to her apartment. She didn't want to let this total stranger into her home, but at the same time she didn't want this kid to get eaten by Tsukiyama. A lesser of two evils. She could deal with a stranger if it meant she was saving him.

"Hinami," Touka called as she pushed the door open. There wasn't an immediate response, so Touka frowned, moving deeper into her kitchenette. "Yo… Hina…" Touka rested her hands on her hips. "Well, shit. I think she's still sleeping."

"I'm right here, Big Sis."

Touka turned around. Sitting on the window sill, knees pulled up and tucked beneath her chin, a cool breeze toying with her hair, Hinami simply tilted her head. Her eyes were on Mutsuki. They were dull and tired and heavily lidded.

"You scared me," Touka gasped, rounding the couch to get to her. "Hinami, get away from there. Did you pop the screen out?" Touka searched the floor until she found the window screen lying near the coffee table. "Hinami, that's dangerous!"

"I just thought I smelled Kaneki," Hinami said innocently, her eyes dragging toward Mutsuki's face. "I guess I was wrong."

"What do you mean?" Touka sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Did Kaneki not visit you when he came up here? That fucking little—!"

"He was here?" Hinami perked up considerably, jumping from the sill and landing delicately on her feet. "So he's okay?"

Touka didn't look at Mutsuki to see his reaction. This wasn't the type of conversation they could have in front of a stranger. So she merely nodded, and then clapped Mutsuki on the back and pushed him forward. "But anyway, this is Mutsuki."

"Mutsuki Tooru," the boy said sheepishly, offering out his hand to Hinami carefully. "It's nice to meet you…?"

"Fu—" Hinami started brightly.

"Fuji Hinami," Touka blurted. Hinami looked at her sharply, startled and alarmed. But then it seemed to settle in that her last name was taboo. "My cousin."

"It's nice to meet you," Mutsuki repeated. He seemed unfazed.

"You smell a lot like Kaneki," Hinami mused, sitting down at the coffee table and crossing her legs.

"We live together…" Mutsuki's hands seemed to wring at that, his fingers grasping at watching he could clench.

Hinami glanced at Touka. She folded her hands in her lap, and she tilted her head. "Do you know Hide too?" she asked.

"Ah, yeah…" Mutsuki laughed nervously. "Hide. He's… really excited, isn't he?"

"He's always excited about everything!" Hinami gasped, clasping her hands together in her lap. "It's so nice! You could tell him that his shirt has a stain and he'd find a way to make that positive!"

"You're exaggerating, Hinami," Touka said gently.

"Only just a little!" Hinami insisted. "Mostly I'm right, though."

"I'd take your word for it, honestly." Mutsuki sat down beside Hinami tentatively. "Do… you two live by yourselves… or…?"

"It's just us," Touka said, eying him sharply. Daring him to make a comment. He didn't. He merely nodded, as if he understood.

"I've never been to the twentieth ward before," he said thoughtfully, his eyes skimming around the room. "I've heard good things, though."

"Where are you from?" Hinami asked eagerly.

"Uh…" Mutsuki laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "A few different places. I was born in Tokyo, if you were wondering about that."

"No," Hinami said blankly, her brow knitting. "I mean, I guess some people aren't born in the city, but…"

Mutsuki smiled at her gratefully, as if her open mindedness had been intentional and conscious.

"I did spend a lot of my childhood abroad though," he said thoughtfully. "It's all a little hazy now, but I used to be able to speak a few different languages. Now it's pretty much narrowed down to Japanese, some English, and Spanish. Though it's been forever since I ever even thought about it…"

"Spanish?" Touka quirked a brow. Meanwhile, Hinami looked elated.

"You know three languages?" she gasped, leaning closer to him. He seemed to lean away instinctively before he relaxed and nodded. "Can you teach me some things?"

Mutsuki was honestly astonished. His mouth dropped open, and his eye widened, and he blinked away. "Uh…"

"It doesn't have to be anything complicated…" Hinami quickly retreated back into her little shell of security and politeness. "How do you say "hello" in Spanish?"

" _Hola_ ," Mutsuki said in a slow, smooth accent.

Hinami blinked. She nodded once. Twice. "Oh—" She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "O— _r_ a…?"

" _Hola_ ," Mutsuki repeated gently. "It's not really an easy sound to make, the "L" sound, so don't get too frustrated. It's not your fault."

Hinami's cheeks puffed out indignantly, but she didn't complain or bring up learning another language anymore. She just looked disappointed now.

Touka wasn't sure what she'd been expecting from Mutsuki, but she wasn't annoyed by him. In fact, he seemed to click with Hinami, which she was grateful for. Hinami didn't really have many people to talk to, let alone new people. And she was clearly enjoying herself, so who was Touka to judge?

Well, she could. Easily. But she wasn't going to.

"How do you say "fuck you" in Spanish?" Touka asked dully.

"Big Sis!" Hinami hissed, enunciating the syllables of  _onee-chan_  sharply, throwing Touka a glare. "That's rude!"

Mutsuki seemed to freeze, looking a little frazzled. His mouth opened, and then it closed. "Oh," he said, laughing nervously. "Um… hold on, I have to think. I haven't actually spoken it in a while." He glanced down at his lap while Hinami stared at him intently. Touka assumed Mutsuki was closer to her own age, but it was entirely possible that he was younger than her. Perhaps he and Hinami had more in common than he and herself. Mutsuki shifted uneasily, deep in thought. " _Vete a la mierda_. That's… the closest I think, to what you want to say."

"That sounds tricky." Touka pursed her lips. "B… Vi…" Her nose wrinkled. "Fuck that, holy shit."

"You asked, sis…" Hinami muttered.

"Did I ask you?" Touka bonked Hinami on the head playfully. "Who even needs Spanish anyway? I've never met anyone who spoke Spanish before today!"

"I haven't had to use it here much," Mutsuki admitted, twiddling his thumbs. "I've had to use English more, even though I don't know it nearly as well."

"You know Spanish better than English?" Touka scoffed, reclining on the floor on the other side of the table. "What fancy school did you go to?"

Mutsuki didn't respond, looking a little uncomfortable. Touka wondered if she'd said something wrong. Hinami peered at him, her hands in her lap, her head cocked to the side. She closed her eyes.

"Ah!" She jumped to her feet, leaping over Mutsuki to run to the door. Touka watched her go bemusedly before it clicked. She stood up as well, smoothing out the wrinkles in her uniform skirt. She really needed to get back to work.

Hinami swung open the door. "Kaneki!" she gasped. She was rather formal in spite of her excitement, calling him  _Kaneki-san_. She bounced on the balls of her feet. "You're back!"

"Hinami." Touka couldn't see Kaneki's face, but his voice was soft and salient, like the saturated cotton candy clouds of a sunset. "Hi. I'm glad you're okay."

"Mhm!" Hinami clasped her hands behind her and beamed. "Thanks to you!"

"I didn't really do much," Kaneki said sheepishly, stepping into Touka's apartment. His eyes met hers, and he smiled mildly. "Sorry about that. Did I miss anything?"

" _Bete a ra mierda_ ," Touka told him blankly.

Kaneki stared at her. His eyes widened significantly, and he blinked rapidly. "Sorry…?"

"How was that?" Touka asked Mutsuki, folding her arms across her chest.

"The pronunciation was a little off," Mutsuki said uncertainly, "but… yeah. Basically."

"Ha ha, um… what?" Kaneki tilted his head. "I wasn't gone that long, was I? Really, what just happened?"

"Mutsuki taught Touka swears in Spanish," Hinami piped up, leaning back on her heels. She looked eager to speak, as though she'd been anticipating this moment for a while. Touka knew Hinami habitually fell into a rhythm of hero worship. As though one good deed made a person completely morally uncompromisable.

"Did he now?" Kaneki's eyebrows raised, and Mutsuki sunk into the floor, his dark cheeks reddening. "That's pretty neat. Spanish, huh?"

"Hey," Touka said, watching him dully. "What exactly just happened between you and Tsukiyama?"

Kaneki glanced at her. He didn't even have the grace to look astonished. He merely stared for a few moments with a weak expression that reflected nothing inside his brain.

"We talked." Kaneki offered a shrug. His body language suggested he was not worried, though Touka could not fathom why. Tuskiyama was a tough customer for normal ghouls, and Kaneki Ken was a weak little half breed snot. He didn't have the power necessary to defend himself or Mutsuki if Tsukiyama decided to act on whatever impulse had sent him to Anteiku, to Mutsuki's table, to his creepy tendencies.

"For real." Touka's eyes narrowed. She heard her voice slice through the air like tin foil ripping. "You think I actually believe that? Bullshit, Kaneki. Bull fucking shit."

"Believe what you want," Kaneki said calmly. "Mutsuki, we really need to get going."

"A-ah!" Mutsuki leapt to his feet, looking horrified. "Right! Oh no, we're going to be so late!"

"Don't worry about it," Kaneki said with a sheepish little smile. "No one is going to be focused on you."

Mutsuki's brow furrowed as he walked toward the door. Touka understood why. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It sounded so goddamn haughty! God, she could smack this jerk right over the head and he'd thank her for the service of ruffling his fucking hair.

"You're really leaving?" Hinami looked deflated, her shoulders sagging and her words coming out in short little puffs. "So soon?"

"I'm so sorry, Hinami," Kaneki said, sounding so earnest that Touka almost believed he was really remorseful. "But Mutsuki and I really have to get to work."

"Will you come back?" Hinami gasped her eyes wide. "Maybe with Big Bro Hide next time? I have so much to ask you!"

For half a second, Kaneki seemed to mouth the words  _Hide-onii-chan_. But then he smiled warmly, and he reached out, touching her briefly on the crown of her head. His fingers lingered for a moment against her hair before he quickly retracted them, as though he'd found himself doing something wrong.

"I'll try my best," he said firmly. "Bye, Hinami. Touka."

She swallowed down a bitter remark, washing it down her throat and watching Kaneki turn away.

Her eyes flickered to his back, observing the hole that had torn through his shirt at the small of his back. She pressed her mouth into a thin line to hide a smirk.

* * *

Kaneki paused mid-step as Mutsuki shrugged off his jacket and offered it out. They were nearing the twentieth ward's branch headquarters, their walk brisk and silent for the most part. Mutsuki hadn't asked any questions, though Kaneki sensed he was dying to know what had happened.

"What's this?" Kaneki asked, glancing down at the jacket uncertainly.

"There's a hole," Mutsuki said weakly. He didn't elaborate. He just shoved the jacket into Kaneki's hands.

It took Kaneki a few moments to realize what he meant.

"Oh." Kaneki thumbed the torn fabric at his back, his fingertips grazing his skin. "Um… oops?" He took the jacket and pulled it on gratefully. It was a little tight fitting, but it'd do. Kaneki glanced at Mutsuki, and he smiled minutely. "Hey… do you mind keeping this a secret?"

"What?" Mutsuki asked. His voice wavered a little. He was probably just confused, and Kaneki couldn't blame him. After all, Kaneki had not given any sort of explanation for his disappearing act, or for Tsukiyama, or even for Touka and Hinami.

Part of Kaneki was hoping Mutsuki just wouldn't make the connection.

"The kagune thing." Kaneki looked down at Mutsuki, watching the way he reacted. He seemed to be generally a very jumpy person. "Sorry, I know it probably sounds weird, but honestly I don't think I can really afford to be interrogated again."

"Again?" Mutsuki looked a little skeptical, his eyes lowering toward the ground. "Kaneki… can you please tell me what happened between you and the CCG?"

"Me and the CCG…" Kaneki didn't want to admit that the CCG had locked him up twice. At least they'd had a somewhat reasonable explanation for the second time. The first time they'd just been assholes about it. "That's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it." Mutsuki's jaw tightened. He looked inexplicably determined all of a sudden, like he'd been possessed by some incredible rush of assertiveness. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound harsh, but… Kaneki, I don't know you. You don't know me either. I don't think you're a bad person— you seem very nice, from what I've… what I've actually seen, but please." He exhaled sharply, and Kaneki watched his skinny fingers clutch at the hem of his coat. "I need to know why you were put in Cochlea!"

The city sounds were passing them by, tires hissing by, low chattering of distant crowds filling the air in jumbled white noise, traffic signals beeping away. Kaneki closed his eyes. The sounds were so familiar, but he felt so separated from it all. Like he didn't really belong in this whirlwind world anymore. It was such a terrible feeling of disconnect, like someone had unplugged the wire attached to his brain and his eyes were reflecting the snowy screens inside his skull.

"Okay." Kaneki started forward again, walking quick, walking brisk, walking and talking without a care. "I want you to trust me, Mutsuki, so I'll try to be as honest as possible with you. I was placed in Cochlea for insubordination."

"There's more to it than that," Mutsuki murmured, quick on the upkeep, his heals clipping the sidewalk as he walked one step behind Kaneki with ease. It was like he was only following him as a sign of respect, like he could probably outwalk him if he wanted.

Kaneki shot him a small smile. "I was trying to save a ghoul," Kaneki said simply. "That's why I was put into Cochlea."

He let his words settle in, falling like feathers upon the surface of an undisturbed pool. Ripples began to form from the moment of impact, and the feather merely drifted on its merry way, dew drops forming in its bristles, slowly beginning to weigh it down.

"Oh." Mutsuki sounded faint. Not so much alarmed as he was confused, like this information wasn't quite processing. While Kaneki felt like he'd been unplugged, he was certain Mutsuki felt like he'd been fed insufficient data, and it was taking too long to load, so his brain was just one slowly filling green bar. It seemed to hit him as the CCG came upon them. " _Oh_."

"You're my replacement." Kaneki shot Mutsuki a sad smile, and Mutsuki jumped, jerking back in alarm. "There's nothing wrong with that, Mutsuki. You're not at fault here. But the thing is, you know, they'd probably get rid of me if they could. I think I'm becoming a liability."

"Why did you try to save a ghoul?" Mutsuki whispered. He didn't sound appalled or disgusted. Confused, yes, and concerned. Perhaps he was worrying for Kaneki's safety. "Kaneki, that's—!"

"Irrational?" Kaneki continued to walk, his feet clapping in time with his biting words. "Insane? Improbable? Illogical? Mutsuki, from what I understand, you and I are two very different species." He stopped before the CCG's headquarters, a looming building that made his skin crawl. In spite of that, he would return, every day, without fail. He spun around, and he smiled at Mutsuki softly. "The CCG didn't create me. I was not ethically produced, and I did not give my consent to become the way I am. And what I am is a ghoul. Which nobody in the CCG wants to accept."

Mutsuki looked truly alarmed this time, his mouth falling open and his eye flashing wide. He didn't seem to know exactly what to respond with, for the silence bled on, and Kaneki could only lower his eyes and let them close. This was difficult for anyone. After all, Mutsuki was a stranger, and he had to trust Kaneki enough to live with him.

"I have something to confess," Mutsuki blurted. Kaneki looked up sharply, blinking at Mutsuki's dark face. He seemed to be distressed, but his expression hardly showed it. He had a very serene face, his worry and doubt expressed through his furrowed brow. "Mr. Kaneki, while you were away with Mr. Washuu, I… was also pulled aside by a Mr. Washuu." Mutsuki's fingers were white against his jacket as he clutched it for dear life, looking sad and remorseful. "Washuu Matsuri, Washuu Yoshitoki's son? He just came back from Germany for… whatever reason. He must have heard about our meeting somehow, because he found me immediately after you two left."

"Oh?" Kaneki wasn't following. What was Mutsuki trying to confess?

The boy took a deep breath. "He brought me to the doctor who developed the surgery— my surgery," Mutsuki said in a slow, uneven little voice. "Dr. Chigyou. He's nice… well, a lot nicer than Matsuri. Dr. Chigyou just wanted to meet me, to see how the surgery had gone. He wanted to see my eye, and he asked me questions. My eating habits, my sleep schedule…" Mutsuki was staring past Kaneki's head, like he was removing himself completely from the world and found some place beyond the horizon to escape to. "It was like a check-up, but faster. I didn't really know what was going on. And then Dr. Chigyou asked about you, and Matsuri said you were being "taken care of," which honestly sounded really sketchy, and I wanted to go back to Amon, but he wouldn't let me excuse myself. He gave me his email address and phone number. Basically… he wants me to keep him consistently updated on any, um…" Mutsuki closed his eye, his mouth folding into a frown. "Abnormalities."

"Ghoul activity, you mean?"

Mutsuki's eye was stuck closed. He nodded furiously.

"He sent me a message early this morning," Mutsuki murmured. "He asked if you were acting strange."

Kaneki thought he should be feeling a sense of betrayal right now. Perhaps it was because he didn't really know Mutsuki that it wasn't really registering.

"What did you say?" Kaneki asked cautiously.

Mutsuki opened his eye, and he smiled weakly. "I never responded," he admitted.

"Well that's encouraging." Kaneki knew he sounded sarcastic, and it was a joke, mostly. Mutsuki looked down.

"I didn't want to say anything, because I haven't really formed a solid opinion about you." His hands were clenching tightly, and Kaneki found himself feeling guilty. At least I feel something, he thought. "But I think I'm beginning to understand. That man, the one at the café… he was a ghoul, right?"

Kaneki stared at him. He didn't know why, but he was overtaken by a sudden chill. Of course Tsukiyama didn't really hide how ghoulish he was. It was kind of his thing, being overtly predatory while maintaining a faint glaze of charm.

"Yes," Kaneki said cautiously.

"You fought him."

Now Mutsuki was merely speaking matter-of-factly, as if he could read Kaneki's thoughts.

In truth, the confrontation had gone a little differently than what Mutsuki was probably imagining.

The moment Mutsuki and Touka had disappeared up the stairs, Kaneki had rounded on Tsukiyama.

"Come with me," he'd said, glancing him in the eyes so he could sense how fucking pissed he was. Tsukiyama loved confrontation and he loved glory and he certainly loved a challenge. Kaneki didn't have to make any pretty threats to lead Tsukiyama away from Mutsuki.

Tsukiyama had made a soft noise, like a humming mixed with a huffing sound. He followed though, one foot after the other, with a usual strut to his stride. It was both funny and ridiculous. It also made Kaneki feel strangely nostalgic.

"This was certainly unexpected," Tsukiyama had quipped, his legs stretching to match Kaneki's pace. "I had no idea that boy was being accompanied by another ghoul."

"How did you know I was a ghoul?" Kaneki asked flatly.

"Well isn't that a silly question." Tsukiyama had smirked down at him, and he sighed loftily, dragging his finger against the corner of his eye and stretching the eyelid gently. "Your kakugan, of course. I really do have to ask, though, why  _is_  it only one eye?"

Kaneki's fingers had grazed below his eyelid, but there were no veins protruding beneath his skin. It was anger that had triggered the transformation. Intense anger. He had to remember that he was in a public place. That was somehow less concerning now that he was a ghoul investigator.

He'd strolled around to the back of Anteiku, his feet clipping the back alley asphalt. He looked up at the sky, and saw that it was a pale, washed out blue.

"Tsukiyama." Kaneki had turned sharply on his heel. The man was watching him, he head tilted, one eyebrow raised quizzically. He was sporting an amused little smile. "What are you trying to accomplish here?"

"Hmm?" Tsukiyama peered at him, and he cupped his chin. "I'm not really sure what you mean… what was your name again?"

"I'm only going to tell you once." Kaneki stepped forward. He glowered up at Tsukiyama, meeting his eye and forcing him to understand that Kaneki wasn't fucking around. Even if this body was weaker— weaker because of lack of exercise, weaker because of lack of practice, weaker perhaps because he'd never been tortured, never been forced into a role of kill or be killed. But regardless, his mind was keen and sharp, and it struck out like a knife. "Stay away from Anteiku. Stay away from that boy you were trying to lure away. Stay away."

Tsukiyama's smile hadn't completely dissipated, but his face fell considerably as he'd watched Kaneki. He lowered his hands to his side, and he squared his shoulders.

"Now this is a strange development," he murmured. He offered up his arms, throwing them out side-to-side, and he jerked his chin jauntily. "This is a free territory, is it not? I can prey upon any cute little human boy I so choose." Tsukiyama winked. "Unless, of course, he's your pet. There's no shame in that, sir, really. I understand the sentiment quite well."

Kaneki had bristled. The phrasing had thrown him off, made him feel a little nauseous. Pet? That was such a terrible thing to say about anyone. Really, it was just disgusting! Sometimes Kaneki forgot just how shitty Tsukiyama had been!

He'd taken a step. He'd done that knowing Tsukiyama was watching his every movement, his eyes trailing after Kaneki's moving feet. Even so, Tsukiyama did nothing to stop Kaneki from pinning him to a wall with Kaneki's forearm crushing his trachea.

"I'm not fucking around," Kaneki had snapped. With a surge of rage, a single limb of his kagune slithered from the small of his back, curling around his shoulder like a gleaming red claw. Its point glinted dangerously close to Tsukiyama's jaw. "I can't protect you if you fuck up, Tsukiyama. So do yourself a favor and quit baiting the CCG."

"The doves?" Tsukiyama's eyes had flashed wide, though only with a great gleam of curiosity. "What do the doves have to do with our pleasant conversation… Kaneki, was it?"

It was strange hearing the very familiar lilt of  _Kaneki-kun_  coming from Tsukiyama now, especially because the tone was so very different. There wasn't fondness or excitement buried beneath the layers of Tsukiyama's voice. Only poison.

Kaneki was running out of options. At this point, Tsukiyama had done only what was expected of Tsukiyama Shuu. Mutsuki Tooru had the appearance, mannerisms, and disposition of Kaneki Ken before everything had changed and torture and time travel had transformed him. Of  _course_  Tsukiyama would be drawn to Mutsuki. But that was just a disaster waiting to happen. Kaneki didn't want Mutsuki to have to suffer through Tsukiyama's misguided infatuation. First he'd have to survive Tsukiyama's initial pining, which was even worse, and it would have a negative impact in general. Not to mention that Mutsuki was a ghoul investigator first and foremost.

 _But so am I_ , Kaneki had recalled.  _I don't need to protect Tsukiyama from the doves. I_ **can't** _protect him from us_.

"I am a ghoul investigator," Kaneki had stated in a small, empty voice. "Take my warning, and stay the hell away."

Kaneki had released him and whirled away.

He knew that saying such a thing would only divert Tsukiyama's attention from Mutsuki and onto Kaneki.

It was better that way. Kaneki knew had to handle Tsukiyama. Mutsuki…

Kaneki wanted to protect him. He didn't want to see him fall into the same awful patterns that had ruined Kaneki's life the first time.

Looking at Mutsuki now, it was easy to see the similarities between himself and the boy. It was almost disturbing. Like because now Kaneki could deal with the bullshit the world threw at him, the world had decided that another person had to suffer the same fate.

Bullshit.

"I gave him a warning," Kaneki said quietly. He was telling the truth, after all. "There are some ghouls… Mutsuki, not all ghouls are bad. Not even that guy… can be all bad." Kaneki turned his eyes away, focusing on the height of the building before them. "Unfortunately, right now we can't trust him not to act out and attack us."

Mutsuki looked down. Perhaps he was trying to figure out exactly what Kaneki meant by that.

"You make it sound like we can trust ghouls at all," Mutsuki whispered.

Kaneki glanced at him. He smiled wanly. "You can't rule out the possibility that ghouls might be sympathetic to people like you or me," he said gently. "We're halfbreeds, Mutsuki. We have more to consider than just 'what is the human thing to do?'" He shook his head, and started toward the entrance. "Sometimes the human thing isn't always the right thing."

As he walked into the building, he was left unaware of Mutsuki pulling his phone from his pocket and typing a short response to Washuu Matsuri.

 _No_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mollipes, mollipedis. [adj]  
> tender-footed


	13. saga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, the last chap took me a little longer than anticipated. because frankly, it was a long, very involved chapter. anyway, i've been slacking on answering questions, which is mostly because i sort of... neglect to answer things on here. if you actually really want me to answer something, you can hit me up on my tumblr [asexualsuzuya](http://www.asexualsuzuya.tumblr.com). i DO answer some comments but for the most part i kinda.. forget to.. like "oh i'll remember to do that later." as if.

She was thinking a lot lately, about families.

What made a family a family?

Was it the presence of a mother and a father? A child? Nurture? Love? What were the components to the perfect family? Where could she find them? She wanted the recipe.

Give it to her.

Please.

Make her a family.

It was all she really hungered for.

Being responsible for another person again was so jarring. She had to clean up and chide and act like an adult, and part of her really liked it, because it gave her an opportunity to flex authority. That never happened. But part of her also hated it. Because she felt like she was fucking up.

Like Hinami would leave her too.

She knew how utterly repellant she was. If Hinami grew up and decided Touka was a boring old coward, well, then, so fucking be it. Hinami could leave. And Touka would stay. That was how it would go. She'd sung this tune before. She'd walked these steps through a thousand times. She knew this dance.

It was just a matter of time before her family fell apart again.

Well. There was her goddamn pessimism rearing its head.

She  _wanted_ to be happy. It wasn't like she was intentionally whittling away her self-esteem, telling herself that she was an awful person, like, no wonder nobody stuck around. It wasn't like that. She didn't know why she had thoughts like this. She didn't know why her head was filled to the brim with these unsettling ideations, that she was just meant to be alone, and she had to be okay with that, and because it was her fate to be alone, she had to be self-sufficient. Self-involved. Her life revolved around simple facts.

She would live alone. She would die alone.

If and when and how were just variables. Facts were facts, steadfast as the horizon line.

This life was a good life. She had friends. She had a home. She had, essentially, a family. It wasn't perfect or pretty, but it was… safe. Loving. Anteiku made her feel like maybe she was wrong. Maybe her fate wasn't steeped in isolation.

And then the inevitable happened.

Her world came to a crashing halt.

She'd been walking home from Yoriko's home, the sky a steely gray, clouds streaking above the particularly box-inclined geometric skyscrapers. The air felt chilly. Her cheeks were a little numb, and her breath was expelling in puffs. Was this winter? Had it already come? That was so amazing. Winter had seemed so far off, but hear it was, biting into her skin.

The sunset today was gray, like the sunrise, and the sunset before it. Her shoes were black against the gray pavement, and she felt like someone had drained her, like someone had pressed chapped lips to her temple and sucked the color out of her eyes until it was nothing but monochrome. She thought it was pretty, in its own ugly way. Gray was such an underappreciated color. It looked so sad. Like black and white had interacted, and the muddied result was left to bask in the sunless days forever more.

The streetlights were on. An umbrella swung from her wrist. The day was dead, and the clouds were fat and ready for the weeping.

She saw a splotch of white out of the corner of her eye. In this palette, everything seemed either black or white or gray, so it wasn't shocking. When she glanced over, she saw a tall man standing at the mouth of a dark alley. He was watching her. And she watched him.

Sharply, she redirected her course. Her even strides became more brisk. The umbrella beat at her hip as she marched toward the alley, toward the man.

"Yomo," she said, letting her voice die like the day gone past. "Is something wrong?"

"I need to speak with you."

It was odd. He was so bad at communicating, at being there, so she didn't know exactly how to handle this. Something had to be wrong for Yomo to show up out of the depths of the gray evening and decide that they needed to have a conversation. Right now. In a dark alley.

"What's this all about?" She was smiling nervously. She knew that. She could feel the corners of her lips twitching, and she knew it was an ugly sight. "You know I don't like surprises."

"Sorry." Yomo brow furrowed. Touka knew him well enough to understand that he was guilty. He seemed uncomfortable. Nervous, even. Something was very wrong.

"What happened?" She was already on the offensive, and she didn't even know what the fuck she was going to fight. All she knew was that she was ready. "Should I find Hinami a place to stay?"

"Anteiku is safe." Yomo glanced at her tiredly. "I'm sorry. I'm just troubling you, right? I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's… fine." She glanced behind her. The gray sunset made the shadows drip down Tokyo's tightly knitted streets. Sidewalks were pulsing gray, and asphalt was glistening black, and buildings were dazes of yellowish light, surreal little blurbs of pale bulbs burning away a little bit of your vision, as though they were mini suns floating inside steel stacks. "It's just weird. Seeing you around like this, all shady in a back alley. What am I supposed to think?"

"I don't exactly come bearing good news," Yomo admitted. He glanced around. Quickly, he spun on his heel and waved her forward. "Come with me."

She stood in the mouth of the alley, the dregs of grayish daylight gleaming at her back. Her instincts told her to turn the other way, to let Yomo's white back fade into the night as she bathed herself in the haze of dying light. But she was scared. So she fell over herself, onto her own sword, and started forward into a slight jog to catch up.

"Should I be worried?" Touka glanced up at his face, finding that he gave her not even a hint of what lay ahead in his expression. Go fucking figure.

He didn't even respond. What the hell was she supposed to think now? She felt like he was leading her to her execution. It was a shivery feeling, like her throat was being tightened, a noose fastened close to her trachea.

They kept walking. By the time they ended up on a main road again, the monochrome world was blotted with in a glaze of yellow streetlights. The air tasted vaguely acidic, as though the sky wanted to rain but it had forgotten how.

Yomo's apartment was a little shabby. He lived in a part of town where there were more people than square footage, and frankly, it wasn't the pinnacle of population.

"Where's the shithead?" Touka asked dully, dropping herself into a chair and making herself as comfortable as possible. She felt like she needed to put on an act, even if Yomo didn't particularly care or notice when she did stuff like this.

"Doing his job." Yomo wasn't looking at her. That was annoying. He'd dragged her here. He'd scared the hell out of her. So what now? What was this all about? He couldn't even look at her! Sometimes Yomo's personality was just so infuriating! "Touka. I doubt you've been told yet, but I feel… obligated."

"Yeah?" Touka swung her umbrella idly. "About what?"

Yomo looked at her. Why did he have that look? He always looked like he wanted to reach out real slow, his fingers stretching, and close his fists around her neck. He didn't look like he cared or like he wanted her to know he cared. He just looked like she was something he needed to get rid of. Something he wanted to make disappear.

Like a compromising photograph that needed to be ripped apart. Like a ghost that did nothing but stand and stare.

"Kaneki came to Yoshimura with a plan." Yomo pulled up a chair, and he sat across from her. His eyes were hard and black, dim like unpolished coals. "He wants us to team up with the CCG."

Touka's umbrella swung limply from her wrist as her neck jerked fiercely. She felt as though he'd punched her in the gut so hard, his fist had broken skin, and he was winding her intestines around his arm.

" _WHAT_?" Touka leapt to her feet, dropping the umbrella in order to smack her hands against her head, her hair gathering between her fingers as she tried to wrap it all around her, figure out her role in all this, Hinami's role, Anteiku, and it was all just entirely too fucking much. "What? Oh my god, what the fuck?"

Yomo stared at her. He nodded once.

"How? What? Why?  _What_? Holy fuck, no! No way! Fuck.  _What_?" She scraped her bangs from her forehead, and if her thoughts could slow the fuck down, then she'd be screaming louder, louder, louder— at the top of her lungs. "That's fucking insane! That's  _bullshit_!"

"Yoshimura doesn't think so." Yomo's eyes closed, like watching her was just too much. "I trust him."

"You're crazy too!" Touka's breathing was picking up in pace, and she felt winded, her ears buzzing like she'd been knocked over the head. "Oh… oh my god, you're going to kill us all!"

"Touka." Yomo's eyes snapped open, and he looked at her sharply. "I didn't tell you to ask your opinion. This isn't up to you. Kaneki has decided to trust the CCG, and we've decided to trust Kaneki. We all have our issues with it. I don't like it, the thought of providing information to those people, but we have to be practical. We can't pass up an opportunity that might make the CCG more liberal."

"Liberal?" Touka spat, dragging her hands down her face. "Is that a joke? Is this a fucking  _joke_?"

Yomo just… stared. It made her want to claw her eyes out so she didn't have to stare back.

"You can scream," he said calmly. "You can yell at me. Punch me if you want." He stood up, a looming figure that made her actually step back. Did she fear him? Adore him? She didn't know. He was a friend, but he made her nervous. Like she was doing something wrong by existing. "It won't change the fact that this is happening. So you can scream. Yell. Hit me. But you can't escape it."

She exhaled shakily. The scream in her throat was swallowed down, a lump in her chest that ached so heavily.

"What…?" Her voice was thin. Reedy. She heard it, and it sliced in the air like a knife against skin. "What is this plan?"

Yomo watched her. He stood, loomed, and his lack of words seemed to sing her a symphony. It was all strings. And they were all screeching.

"An informant will feed the doves information about a ghoul organization called Aogiri Tree." Yomo's voice could not bend. She wondered if it knew the weight it dealt. "That's all. We don't give our names or our faces. Just information. And then, hopefully, we'll prove something."

"That's one damn flimsy plan," Touka remarked bitterly.

"Yes." Yomo's cold eyes whisked over her face. "But, Touka, you're still… so young. You don't realize yet. When you get older, you get tired. Even a shred of hope is sometimes enough to make us yield."

"Don't act like you're  _so_  fucking old," she sneered. "I'm not a little kid, okay? I'm fully capable of understanding shit like this!"

He didn't respond.

"Stop looking at me like that!" She huffed, throwing her arms out and leaning forward. "What? What is it? Are you annoyed that I'm pissed off? Well take a good look! I'm angry! I don't think this is a good idea, and I think we're throwing our lives away because that Kaneki asshole is an absolute  _idiot_!"

"I'm waiting," Yomo said.

"For  _what_?" Touka gasped. "A goddamn divine intervention? Yomo! Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think this is a fool's errand!"

Yomo stayed silent. Because he could. Or because, maybe, he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. Either way, it was effective. Touka felt like she was yelling at air, like her words were hitting a brick wall and dying brutal, honest little deaths. Bloody and broken on the floor, they could not be salvaged, and she let them die, because it was too hard to pick them up and start again. Once you fought once, it was so hard to get back up and go through the same motions. She was tired.

Was this what growing up felt like?

She wanted it to stop.

One day, she might wake up and feel empty.

All her passion might just drain out of her.

What would that be like? To be free of anger?

To be like Yomo?

Well, she could always end up dying before adulthood drained her of her personality.

That'd be funny.

And likely, given their current situation.

"Wait," she said confusedly, "who the hell is going to spy on this group for the doves? You?"

"I'm not charismatic enough. Apparently." Yomo didn't sound offended. Touka thought that maybe that was a joke, but it was phrased so strangely. "Spying requires making friends. I can watch people from far away, but I can't make them trust me."

"Okay, I get that." Touka sighed. "So… who then?"

"Right now, the best option is Nishiki."

"You'd trust  _that_  shitty ass nerd?" Touka groaned. "We're doomed. We're all dead. He's certainly the deadest of all. Rest in fucking pieces, nerd boy extraordinaire."

"Nishiki is more reliable than you'd expect." Yomo glanced at her sharply. "He's more than qualified for this job."

"Ugh. Fine. Whatever!" She shrugged, her shoulders snapping up to her jaw from the force. "I don't care. Why did you even have to bring me here? You could have told me this at Anteiku."

"Because I didn't want anyone else to hear what I'm about to tell you next." Yomo's eyes were on hers, and she though the weight might force them to roll back into her skull. "I did some digging on Aogiri. Followed some of its people. Touka, Ayato is a member."

It didn't hit her right away. It didn't really hit her at all. Ayato? A member? Of this… whatever? Like, why should that matter?

"I'm not Ayato's keeper," she said flatly. "He can do what he wants."

"We are going to do our best to take down Aogiri, and not humanely." Yomo watched her, and she realized that he was implying something dire. "Ayato is deeply involved with their organization."

"Oh." Touka leaned back. " _Oh_."

Yes. It made sense. So… Anteiku was turning its back on Ayato, as Ayato had turned his back on it.

So… fucking… what?

She didn't care. She  _couldn't_  care. She had other responsibilities. She had a life. She had school, Hinami, Yoriko, Anteiku. She had hopes and dreams and aspirations, and Ayato had… what? A rebelling squad of ghouls who were going to get crushed by the doves sooner or later, with or without Touka's help?

It was a joke. What the hell should she care? Why did it have to be up to her? Like, what could she even do? Ayato wouldn't listen to her. He'd turn the other way, and just drop dead anyway.

Maybe she should just let it happen.

Was that crazy?

Was it crazy that the thought of letting him die without so much as trying to help him made her want to rip open her chest and pry her ribs apart?

She found herself back in that chair. She'd lifted her legs up and pulled them to her chest. What was she going to do? Anteiku was going to help the CCG whether she liked it or not. Ayato… was in danger. Whether she liked it or not.

So what was she going to do?

"Oh my god…" She buried her lips in her knees. She didn't know. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to do nothing, but this was her  _brother_. It was hard. Because even after everything, even after the awful exchanges, the mean, hateful words, she knew. She still loved him. If he'd just let her, she'd do anything for him. "Fuck… oh… my god…"

She couldn't protect him anymore.

Right?

…Right?

* * *

"Why don't we take a break?" Kaneki offered, watching Mutsuki double over and pant heavily. They'd been at this for about an hour now, and Kaneki had said these words at least seven times.

Once more, Mutsuki shook his head.

"No," he gasped, swallowing thickly and lifting his head. Sweat glinted on his brow and upper lip. "I'm okay. Let's keep going."

"Mutsuki…"

What was with this kid?

They didn't have any specific orders right now. There was an investigation going on to hunt for Rabbit and Gourmet, but nobody expected Kaneki to do research. Apparently he was just here to cut down and exterminate ghouls. How ironic was that?

"I'm really fine!" Mutsuki pushed his hair from his eyes and forehead, glancing around the gym worriedly. "Gym class was a pretty vital part of the academy, so I'm used to this."

"You seem like you're having trouble breathing." Kaneki didn't mean to sound suspicious, but Mutsuki winced anyway. Kaneki didn't know what he'd said wrong, but he regretted it. "I don't want to fight you if you can barely breathe."

Mutsuki looked a little downtrodden. He wasn't bad, necessarily, but he was naturally very weak. His small stature attributed to it, but Mutsuki didn't have a lot of muscle. Kaneki didn't doubt his potential, but if he got into a fight now, he'd definitely lose. That was a scary prospect.

Kaneki slid down against a far wall, digging into the bag he'd taken with him to work and retrieving two waters. He tossed the other to Mutsuki, who caught it easily, albeit nervously.

"Sit." Kaneki stared at him, cupping the water gingerly in both hands. "Let's talk."

"Uh…" Mutsuki was clearly anxious, but that didn't stop him from doing what Kaneki said. It was weird. They were the same rank, but Mutsuki acted like Kaneki was  _so_  superior somehow. It wasn't like Kaneki had been with the CCG long. In fact, from what Mutsuki had told him, he'd been enrolled in the Academy far longer than Kaneki had even been a ghoul.

"We're supposed to go out and investigate with Amon soon," Kaneki reminded him. "It shouldn't be difficult, but will you be okay on the field?"

"I'll be fine." Mutsuki looked at him sharply. "I… I'm not going to run away, or die, or anything. I can do investigating. It's my job, after all."

Kaneki smiled, and he took a swig of water. This felt so familiar. The gym was brighter, and there was no underlying hint of piss that the underground tunnels had, but it still reminded him of those days. With Touka. And Yomo.

He missed that.

Being nostalgic about things that had technically never even happened was strange. Like he'd hallucinated the whole thing. Because only his feelings about the subject remained.

"I appreciate you helping me," Mutsuki murmured. His mouth was brushing the lip of his water bottle, his visible eye closed.

"It's not a big deal, Mutsuki."

"Yeah it is." Mutsuki raised his head and stared up at him. "You said it yourself. I'm your replacement. If I… if I ever actually learn to use my kagune, what will happen to you?"

Kaneki didn't want to respond. He knew the answer. Maybe Mutsuki did too. It didn't actually matter if either of them responded, because neither would admit to the truth that they already completely comprehended.

"It'll be fine," Kaneki lied, patting Mutsuki gently on the shoulder. "I'm not worried. I'll figure something out."

"That's not very encouraging…"

"Well," Kaneki laughed nervously, "just pretend it is. It's the best I've got right now."

Mutsuki stared at him. There was something going on in this boy's head that Kaneki could not understand. He knew that. It was killing him.

Everyone had the right to hide something. Hell, Kaneki was hiding a whole lot of shit from Mutsuki. But Kaneki's curiosity would not stop pestering him. He couldn't escape the consistent intrusive thoughts. Why was Mutsuki so jumpy? What was he so afraid of? Why had he been so eager to graduate from the Academy early?

Kaneki didn't need to know. He just really wanted to.

He heard a steady ringing coming from the pocket of his bag, and he blinked, snatching up his phone confusedly. Nobody really called him nowadays. Except Hide, of course, but Hide was supposed to be in class right now.

When he checked the caller ID, he found he didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" he answered tentatively, turning his face away from Mutsuki.

" _Good morning, Kaneki_ ," a bright, level voice buzzed in his ear. It wasn't an unpleasant sound. It was something like a songbird in the distance. Beautiful, but confusing. " _This is Washuu Yoshitoki. I just got your email._ "

"Oh!" Kaneki lept to his feet, nearly spilling his water across the sparring mats. "Oh, right! Yes, I'm sorry. Should I have not sent it?"

" _Don't worry, my emails are secure enough for this. However, if we are going to continue to speak of sensitive information, it might be best to do it over the phone, or ideally, in person._ "

"That… makes sense."

" _There is a caveat to that, of course_ ," Yoshitoki sighed. " _I can't be seen with you too often, or else it will be suspected that we are scheming together._ "

Kaneki couldn't help but think to himself,  _Is that not what this is?_  But he didn't say that, because he didn't know how. He stepped over Mutsuki, signaling that he was going to step out for a minute.

"So there is no really safe option?" Kaneki wasn't surprised, but it did provide some caution for the future.

" _That's the trouble with plotting something in secret. There is no "safe" or "comfortable" for us now. We either succeed or we fail from here on out._ "

"I see." Kaneki didn't see. He was hopelessly confused. "And if we fail, what happens exactly to the other people involved?"

Yoshitoki was quiet on the other line, as though he was trying to puzzle out Kaneki's thought process. " _You said you had a volunteer we could trust_ ," he said calmly. " _I respect that. I won't pry for more information about their identity, but you do understand how delicate this situation is, right? You're already treading on thin ice, Kaneki. If this goes wrong, if we reveal this plan and it is not received kindly, you may not survive long enough to see the repercussions of our folly_."

Kaneki inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on his phone tightening. He was walking. He didn't know where. He realized he was going in circles, pacing subconsciously as he tried to make a map of this plan in his head. They were only focusing on getting a mole into Aogiri. But once the mole established their loyalty to the organization— Kaneki didn't know how, but he had a feeling there would be murder involved— it was basically a low risk job.

He knew, however, that Yoshitoki was going to want more.

Of course he would.

He was taking a huge risk by allowing this to happen. Because he'd been the one to offer a ghoul immunity. That could put his job in serious danger. This was a scandal waiting to happen.

"The way I see it," Kaneki said softly, "you'll be far worse off. If you don't mind me saying."

" _Oh_?" Yoshitoki sounded strangely upbeat. Curious, even. " _How so_?"

"Like you said," Kaneki informed him steadily, "I'm probably not going to live long enough to experience the repercussions if this goes south. But you, sir, well… I don't envy your position. You're taking a huge risk on my word, and I appreciate that."

" _This is all still in what I'd call a trial stage_ ," Yoshitoki said gently. " _We have nothing to fear just yet, Kaneki. If the informant can't supply sufficient information, or if they betray us by chance, then it's still completely possible to abandon the project. There are more variables than either of us care to admit, so if the conclusion is reached and it is neither good nor bad, that can't be unexpected._ "

"You said we either succeed or we fail," Kaneki said confusedly. "Is that not true, then?"

" _No, it's true enough._ " Yoshitoki sounded distant now. " _It'd be sad to have to terminate the project and cut all ties with it. I'd call that a failure, wouldn't you?_ " Kaneki heard Yoshitoki shifting on the phone. " _That doesn't mean it has to end with your death. Believe it or not, Kaneki, we don't_ want _to kill you._ "

Why was hearing those words so strange?  _We don't want to kill you_. He'd been living the past few weeks, months, feeling like the CCG was a final destination. Like he was going to be crushed by the immense weight of their expectations, like he couldn't change himself thoroughly enough even if he tried so he didn't try at all. He felt like a stranger here, like he'd be ostracized even if he wasn't so thoroughly pro-ghoul in an organization that specialized in eradicating the species.

He'd died once before. Maybe he was just begging to die again.

Was that why he'd come to the CCG? Was this just an elaborate suicide mission?

Did he  _want_  to die?

The worst part was, Kaneki couldn't even tell. If someone asked, he'd say no, but could that really be the truth? He was certainly scared of dying, but could he say, with a certainty, that he wouldn't be happier if he were dead?

This was such a consistent, bothersome quarrel inside his head that he sometimes forgot it wasn't really normal. People didn't think about dying like this. People didn't bargain with death on a regular basis like him.

"Right," Kaneki said vacantly. "You're right. So… anyway, I'll just keep you informed, then?"

" _That'll work. Have a good day, Kaneki._ "

"You too, sir."

Kaneki waited for the other line to click before he hung up. He felt jittery, like there were ants skittering wildly beneath his skin. Yoshimura had confirmed that Anteiku would back this plan, and Yoshitoki confirmed that he was still in. So what was left?

Get a mole into Aogiri.

Die a little inside? Maybe.

When Kaneki returned inside, finding his way back to the gym, he was alarmed to find Amon chatting amiably with Mutsuki. They hadn't really spoken since Kaneki's release from Cochlea, and the incident with Arima. Kaneki felt like Amon probably hated him. And who could blame him?

"Amon." Kaneki smiled at him, but he knew it was just so dull and lifeless. Perhaps Amon recognized his sadness, because he managed a small smile in return. "What's up? Why are you here?"

"Amon came to give us our quinque," Mutsuki piped up. He didn't sound very enthusiastic, but that was probably because he was nervous. Kaneki just didn't know how to feel.

"Oh, wow." He was a little chilled when Amon picked up a white briefcase and offered it out to him. Like ice had gotten into his bloodstream, and it was only a matter of time before he completely froze over. "Already?"

"It's been a week," Amon said, his brow furrowing. "These quinques were pre-made, so it was mostly an assessment of your personality and physical capabilities that determined your quinque type."

"Awesome. What the hell is this?" He pointed to the briefcase dully, knowing fully well what it was, while Mutsuki stood with a large eye, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Was he scared of Amon or something?

"Your quinque is in this." Amon's arm was outstretched, the briefcase hanging limply from his fist as he offered it. What an offering. What did this mean for Kaneki? Up until now, the whole dove thing hadn't felt real. But now he had a quinque. "Feel free to open it. It won't bite."

"Ha ha," Kaneki sighed, "very funny."

He took the briefcase gingerly, his fingers hooking around the handles as he pulled it close. Mutsuki's briefcase was relatively smaller. He had it resting beneath his legs, which were pulled up toward his chest. Kaneki knelt down beside him, thumbing the latch of the briefcase before snapping it.

"It's called Tsunagi," Amon said as Kaneki reached into the case and retrieved a smooth, hilt-less longsword. "Bikaku, rank C. You'll have to get used to fighting with it, since swordplay isn't exactly widely practiced, but I doubt you'll have much difficulty. I was told that you were requested a sword quinque."

"I didn't request anything," Kaneki said hoarsely, the sword lying flat against his lap. He didn't feel as disgusted as he thought he'd be. Maybe that was because he didn't actually care as much as he wished he did.

 _I ate ghouls,_  he recalled,  _lots and lots of ghouls. Do I care? Do I really fucking care? I know what they taste like. I'm not better than any investigator here. I'm just so much worse._

"Someone else requested it for you." Amon looked down at him. Then, without warning, he crouched onto the floor. Both Mutsuki and Kaneki jumped as he got himself comfortable, shrugging off his suitcoat and setting it aside. "Don't ask me the details, Kaneki, I'm not at the main headquarters anymore."

"Oh. Well, sorry, it's not like I have any real idea what's going on here." Kaneki ran his fingers over the blade of the quinque. It was strange to think that this had once been a kagune.  _What would a quinque made of my kagune look like?_  It was a thought not unlike the ones that came before it, the musings of death and if he wanted it or not.

"I'm going to take you with me sometime when I go to lecture," Amon muttered, squinting at Kaneki's face. "Maybe a classroom setting will help things stick."

"Oh, please do!" Kaneki clapped his hands together in faux excitement. "And when all the kids ask you who I am, I can demonstrate what it'd be like to meet a real live ghoul!"

"Why must you consistently ruin nice things, Kaneki?" Amon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose irritably. "You make it so hard to communicate. We're still coworkers, you know, even if we have differing opinions. If we don't learn how to trust each other, it might end up getting someone hurt down the line."

"I trust you, Amon," Kaneki said gently. It was a lie, yes. The worst kind of lie, really.

A lie that he wanted to be true.

It hurt to be such a godawful liar.

And Amon, being the gentle, gullible man that he was, looked so pleasantly surprised.

Kaneki felt so bad.

He felt so, so, so, so,  _so fucking bad_.

Why was he like this? Why couldn't he just be honest, and not blurt out lies just to soothe someone else's ego?

"That's good to hear, Kaneki," Amon said quietly, "but I think I need you to prove it."

His fingers closed around the grip of the sword. He had nothing more to say.

Mutsuki retrieved his briefcase from beneath his legs, laying it out in front of him and pressing his fingers against the latches. When he opened it, he was cautious and slow, barely making any sound as he let the box fall open. There were two knives within it. He took one out and let it lie in both his hands.

"Daggers?" Mutsuki looked a little unsure. Maybe he was thinking about how close he'd have to be with someone to engage in combat.

"Scorpion, 2/56 issued. Bikaku, Rank B." Amon shrugged. "I'm not sure how the fit will be, but honestly you'll get used to it. If you lose one, we'll probably be able to replace it, so it's a good quinque to start with. You're small, so I think the basic assumption that small, short, close range attacks would suit you best."

"Ah." Mutsuki thumbed the flat end of the blade, looking puzzled. "I guess I get it. I'll try my best, Koutarou, sir."

"Oh," Kaneki gasped, looking up at Amon, "right. Thank you."

Amon glanced at him. He didn't look so much puzzled as he did curious. He smiled, and nodded. "It's no trouble, honestly." He offered up a slight shrug. "I wanted to see how you two were fairing. How are living arrangements?"

"Fine," Mutsuki said cautiously. Kaneki looked at him.

"Hey," he said. "You know if something's wrong you can just say something right? I'm not going to get angry if you have a complaint."

"I have no complaints," Mutsuki said.

Kaneki remained unconvinced. He and Amon shared a meaningful look, knowing that the other picked up on the resignation in Mutsuki's tone. What were they supposed to do? They couldn't drag the complaint out of him.

"What about the ghoul things?" Amon asked gently. "Are you uncomfortable in any way due to the surgery?"

"No." Mutsuki set his knife back into the case and shut it carefully. "My appetite is the same. I have to keep going to regular checkups, but apparently I'm normal."

He didn't sound so happy about that.

"Is that a bad thing?" Kaneki asked tentatively.

Mutsuki sighed. He wrung his hands in his lap. "It's… not. Not really…" He pressed his lips together thinly, and he shook his head. "It's just, you know, I think I might be a little too normal. Compared to you, Kaneki, my RC levels are so low, I might as well be a regular human. I don't think anyone's happy about that."

The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. "Oh," he said softly.

Amon looked disturbed.

Truly, deeply disturbed.

"What's so wrong with being human?" Amon asked in a voice that Kaneki thought was a little too strong. He shouldn't use such a booming voice with Mutsuki, not when the boy was clearly dealing with a lot of internal stress. "I've been debriefed on this project, and the motive was clear. A human with surgically implanted quinque. Do they expect you to lose your humanity?"

"I don't know," Mutsuki gasped, leaning away sharply. "I just… I feel like I'm not what they wanted. Like I'm a prototype, and I went wrong. I wouldn't be surprised if they found someone better. Stronger."

"If they wanted that, they should never have put Kaneki in jeopardy in the first place," Amon said heatedly. "No. I think you're wrong. They don't want another Kaneki— that'd be too messy and too unethical. Kaneki is a human, and no one wants to see what happened to him happen to anyone else."

Mutsuki raised his eyes, shooting a glance at Kaneki when Amon said the word "human." As though he had his doubts. And, granted, he had every right to doubt. Kaneki had adamantly declared himself a ghoul before this boy on multiple occasions. He had every right to be disturbed.

"Okay," Kaneki said guiltily, "granted, I did fuck up."

"Well, yes, Kaneki, we all know that," Amon sighed, closing his eyes so they wouldn't see them roll back into his skull. Too fucking late, buddy. They saw it. Mutsuki turned his face away to hide a smirk. Kaneki just felt like a loser. "I just mean that you are consistently being weighed as either a dangerous threat or a powerful asset, and frankly, I think your life shouldn't be hanging in the balance while you're risking it for the sake of the people who are considering terminating it."

Kaneki was shocked. He stared at Amon, his mouth falling open, and he tried to form a proper response, but all he could really do was smile.

Amon wasn't a mindless follower of a monolithic ghoul slaying machine. He did have opinions. He did have a conscience. He did care about Kaneki, even if his morals were stringent and his mind was stubborn.

"Ah…" Amon seemed to deflate, his voice lowering quite a bit as he tried to shrink himself. Perhaps he felt like he needed to become smaller here, like he might intimidate them. Because they were younger and compared to him, everything was small, so he needed to adjust to that. "Sorry, Kaneki. I don't want to scare you. You're not in any real danger."

"It's fine, Amon," Kaneki said in the kindest voice he could manage. Because he really was touched that Amon still cared. Even after their arguments, and clearly differentiating ideals, Amon still cared. "Thank you."

He looked down at the sword in his lap. It wasn't really hitting him yet what he'd be using it for.

* * *

Home was such an abstract concept. Where was home? What was it? Where did it come from? Where did it go? It was not a place, but a feeling, and that feeling was so easily lost or misplaced. She'd had that feeling with her father and Ayato. In that little apartment on that narrow little street, where she'd loop her fingers through the wire fence and press her face in the metal until the scent of corrosion made her dizzy. It had been a three meter chunk of backyard, tufts of grass growing beneath concrete slabs, half a dozen potted plants resting up against the rusting fence, terracotta clay still as vibrant and warm as the day it'd been formed. It had been her bare feet on the back porch, the heat from the concrete radiating against her skin. It had been Ayato's face pressed to her back, his arms around her waist, and his voice whittling away at her mind, until it became incessant, unceasing, echoing in the caverns it had made there forever and ever.

Home had been a place because home had been a person.

And then it changed. Like all good things, it was swept away by time, ripped from her fingertips and washed down a drain. There was no salvaging a childhood once it faded. There was no stepping back once the road began to crumble. There was no tucking her wings back into her skin and wishing she'd never needed to use their power.

When had home become so foreign? A feeling that didn't quite reach her heart, like she was missing a piece of herself somewhere. They'd come to an agreement with Yoshimura, hopping from place to place, making a mess of things, and eventually coming to live under his roof. Touka hadn't been offered a job yet, and their residence had, at the time, seemed temporary.

And then weeks went by. Months. Touka started calling Anteiku "home" without realizing. Touka had gotten scared. Because Ayato had gotten angry.

"That place isn't home," he'd snapped. "We don't even  _have_  a home! The old man doesn't even want us!"

And what could she say? Could she have disagreed? It felt like he'd been lying, and she usually could pick out those types of things, but he'd just become so distant that it was hard. Was he lying intentionally, or did he really just think that was the truth?

"You're wrong," she'd replied quietly.

And he'd stomped off.

Home.

Anteiku. Home. Hers, but not his. That had been the rift. What had been the cataclysm? What had been the straw that broke the camel's back, the inevitable final blow that had pushed her brother to run away?

She didn't know.

That was the trouble with broken relationships. You didn't get a clear picture of how they'd broken or why. All you had were the pieces, shattered in a pretty little mess on the floor. It was like someone had knocked your favorite vase off its pedestal while you were away, and you'd come home to find all the pieces scattered all around, and there was no sense to it, only resignation and sadness. You just scraped the shards up into a dust pan and threw them away.

Relationships ended and began all the time. Why was she so fickle? Why were people so endlessly destructive with how they treated one another? She didn't want this. She didn't want to feel so bad about something that had been beyond her control.

But  _had_ it?

Whose fault had it really been that her brother had left?

Ayato was stubborn and mean. He was a little shit, a scrappy little puppy who was all bite and bark and could only seem to rip apart the prettiest fabric he could get his fucking muzzle on. He wasn't sweet, or cute, or fun to be around.

But she missed him.

She hated that! She hated feeling that she'd failed him somehow by letting him go, by being angry with him for leaving, for not following him and pining for his approval! She hated that she  _wanted_  to have his approval, when he was the younger one, when he was the one who needed her guidance. She hated that she couldn't have him back, that she couldn't protect him anymore. That he was somewhere, all alone, doing his own thing, probably sullying any sort of innocence he'd had left. She hated him. She hated herself. And she hated that all that was left between them was hate.

Sometimes she felt like the only thing alive in her was hate. Why was that?

Making coffee didn't calm her nerves. Talking to Yoriko didn't slow her thoughts. Helping Hinami read didn't make her feel like a better person. Taking a bath didn't wash away the achy hollowness that had resurfaced somehow from deep with her, a hole that she had forgotten had been there, a chasm that she'd neglected to fill.

This was such a hopeless feeling. She couldn't shake it. Like she was being swallowed up by her own loss. She wanted to wallow in it, to sit in this bathtub forever, to talk with Yoriko forever, to smile at Hinami forever, but it wasn't possible, and knowing that weighed down the experience. She was caught. She was trapped. Her emotions were dueling each other, and instead of besting the other, they both just collapsed, leaving her feeling  _so fucking empty_. She was just hollow. Vacant. What was she?

She wanted fire, and all she got was the static screech of an old television set.

Where was she? She didn't feel like she was in Anteiku. It didn't feel like she should be in Anteiku. She couldn't explain it, but she wanted it to stop. How did you get this kind of numbness to go away? She knew what people did to  _feel_  numb. They drank, they drugged themselves, they fucked, they washed their worried down the drain, but she couldn't do that.

She wished her worries actually worried her. She wished she cared about school, about upcoming exams, about maintaining contact with Yoriko, who'd been texting her nonstop for hours on end. She replied in solid, one word sentences. Yoriko asked if she was okay, and Touka replied that she was fine. Because that was the safe thing. If she said she wasn't fine, that she'd started to lose sight of why she was here, why she wasn't dragging Ayato tooth and nail away from people who might hurt him, what would Yoriko say? She'd just pester her for more info. Grill her, poke her, prod her, beg her to open up, and if she did, if she told the truth, then it would only lead to trouble. Or heartache. Or, mercilessly, both.

Worry, worry, worry. Could she worry? Could she care? Was there an ounce of her left to spare for that sort of thing? Memories were making her feel so much like a child, and she couldn't tell if it was a bad thing, because on one hand she was recollecting sensations, smells, even the sound of her father's voice as it rung through their tiny kitchen, but on the other hand she was losing herself in the nostalgia, crippled by a sense of loneliness that she couldn't really comprehend, so she ignored it.

This was way too much.

What did she do?

It was like she just couldn't fucking stop. Like she was watching herself start to fall apart, but she couldn't stop it because she felt no real connection to herself and the person who sunk deeper and deeper into the water and wished for a resolution the float inside her mouth like lukewarm water that she could just spit out.

"Big Sis," Hinami gasped, raising her head as Touka walked out of the bathroom with hair dripping against her neck and an oversized sweatshirt hugging her thighs. She yanked on her sneakers. "Where are you going?"

"Just for a run." It was easy to say things. She turned her face and shot Hinami a quick smile. "I'll be back in a bit, kay? Just watch some TV if you can't sleep while I'm gone."

"Ah… no thanks," Hinami laughed nervously, "I think I'd rather read."

Touka found herself making a face. "Yeesh," she muttered, yanking her hood over her head. "That Takatsuki shit again? Whatever, Hina. Just don't come crying to me when you have nightmares."

"I  _won't_  have nightmares!" Hinami shouted, her voice firm and determined. Touka snorted, and she left the apartment, taking the steps down into the back of the shop to exit through the alley. If Yoshimura heard her, he didn't try to stop her.

It hadn't been a lie. She did go running.

Night running was a lot nicer than day running. It made the city seem so much more alive, like an organism that fed and breathed, lights freckling its face and serpentine streets veining its body. It felt like a cyclops, and she was a sheep, and if she made a wrong move it would take her in its fist and devour her.

Maybe this city was as ghoulish as she was.

It was pretty damn cold, actually, now that she was outside and running. Her sneakers chafed her skin uncomfortably, but it wasn't like she was going to get blisters. It'd be funny if something as mundane as a shoe could break her skin.

The wind was kissing her bare cheeks, biting and harsh, like being grazed by the knuckles of an ice sculpture. She'd keep running even if it killed her, which was admittedly unlikely, but damn it, she  _would_!

It had been about two days since Yomo had laid the news on her. Shouldn't her defense mechanism of closing shit out and not actually letting anything bother her just… kick in by now? She didn't feel anything, and it was driving her nuts. It bothered her. Ayato being part of all this madness  _bothered_  her, but she couldn't do anything about it.

She couldn't fight Aogiri. She couldn't fight the CCG.

She was stuck.

In the fucking middle.

Waiting to see how this all played out.

She couldn't handle that. She'd go insane.

The doves intended on wiping out Aogiri. Nishiki was going to help. And none of those assholes were going to care about taking prisoners. She had to rationalize.

She had to do something fucking drastic.

Touka didn't know what to call this. It was manic, and it was mad, and she was going to sorely regret it. But that didn't stop her. Honestly, that thought fueled her. It was like she needed to know that she would be able to feel regret in the future, and that was such a reassurance that she didn't even fucking care.

She ended up tapping on Kaneki Ken's window. Because why the hell not?

The windowsill was big enough that she could chill on it. The fire escape was also close, so she didn't really have to try hard to get up here. It was a nice spot. She felt like she could come up here to think, if she were the type of person who could do that for longer than three minutes without going nuts.

A face appeared in the window. She glanced at him, and realized very quickly that it was not Kaneki.

"Mutsuki?" she gasped, pulling off her hood to peer closer. "Oh. Shit! Oh man!"

Mutsuki looked alarmed, and slightly terrified. He tentatively pulled open the window. "Touka…?" He looked hopelessly confused. "Um… what are you…?"

"Do you  _live_  here now?" She stuck her head into Kaneki's room. Yep, just as small as she remembered. "Both of you? Doesn't that get cramped?"

"W-well—!" Mutsuki stumbled back as she crouched on the windowsill carefully, the balls of her feet rocking as she gripped the window frame and frowned. "I mean, yes, but it's not really—!"

"Stop, stop, I get it." She glanced up at him, and shrugged. "When I was little, my brother and I didn't even have our own beds, it's not a big deal. But why are you and Kaneki living together?"

"Why are you in our third story window?" Mutsuki blurted, looking as though he couldn't contain himself any longer. He flushed, but he looked absolutely firm in this, like he needed an answer. "Where did you even come from?"

"The road?" Touka offered weakly. It was so weak.  _So_  weak. "No offense, I'm sure you're cool, but where's the asshole himself? I need to talk to him."

Mutsuki looked absolutely puzzled. "Kaneki, you mean…?" He was taken aback. Perhaps he'd never considered Kaneki to be an asshole. What a nice kid. God, how old  _was_  he anyway? Every time Touka looked at him he looked younger. "You really think he's an asshole?"

"I think he's entitled and doesn't actually know what he's doing ever," she said flatly.

"You really don't like him?" Mutsuki stared at her, his eyes wide. She wondered about his eyepatch not for the first time.

"It's not… that…" Touka dropped down from her perch, stretching her legs. Kaneki's room smelled like old books and stale coffee. "He's just annoying. Look, I don't have to explain anything to you."

"Okay…?" Mutsuki held up his hands and backed away slowly. "But… um… Miss Touka…" She cringed.  _Touka-san_  made her sound so  _old_  coming from his mouth. "Why are you here, really? If you don't really care for Kaneki, then I… don't really get why you came to his window…"

 _Well,_  she thought dully,  _using the door would be too practical, wouldn't it, kiddo? Damn it._ She felt like such a fool.

"Used the door last time," she said in a thoughtless, heated voice. "Didn't really work out so well for me. I think the window is just a better route in general."

"That…?" He was clearly confused and taken aback, which was understandable because Touka was making  _no_  sense whatsoever, and she was fine with that, she didn't come here to make sense, but part of her felt bad. Like, guilty for just being such a godless bitch to this boy. Because she was angry, or maybe she just wanted to be angry, so she was trying to take it out on him.

"Whatever," she muttered, blowing her damp hair out of her eye and brushing past him. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"No, you don't!" Mutsuki gasped. "I'm— I'm really sorry."

"Oh my god," she muttered, shooting him a sharp glance. "For  _what_? I'm just busting your ass right now, Mutsuki, calm down."

"Oh…"

"Oh my god," she repeated, closing her eyes. She was awful. This kid was awful. Everyone was so fucking awful.

"I—!"

"Don't apologize!" Touka held up both her hands, and then she whisked them through her hair, feeling it crimp beneath her fingers. It would not look pretty when it dried, and she felt like she should care, but she didn't. "Fuck! Who even are you? Why are you here? Are you a ghoul? Are you human? What the fuck is your  _deal_?"

Mutsuki's mouth fell open, and he shrunk back. There was distinct shuffling coming from behind the door, like Kaneki had jumped to his feet at the sound of shouting. But Mutsuki had composed himself, his jaw tightening and his eyelid drooping as he watched her. He looked sad.

"You and Hinami," he said very softly, as if applying a cool cloth to a burn, "are ghouls. Right?"

Touka bristled.

Oh. Fuck. Fuck!

Had she just made a giant fucking mistake?

 _He smells like Kaneki_ , Hinami had said, her voice soft and vacant, dead and dull and dragging across Touka's brain.

Touka heard the doorknob twist. She was scared. Even in this state of mind, this off-center sort of existence that made her feel all beside herself and above herself and behind herself, like she was leaving bits of her heart in the past and tossing the rest into the uncertain future. Even with all these feelings being buried deep down under a cloud of vacancy, she was terrified.

So she reached forward. She reached, her fingers brushing the boy's cheek. She saw the way his eye flashed, the horror and confusion that glistened there. It made her feel so fucking bad. Like she was a villain in a fairy tale, like she was all bad, all dark, made from the ugly things that crept in nightmares. She was bile and dust and greasy black smoke. She was the witch that fattened up little children before she ate them whole.

She tugged his eyepatch from his eye, tearing it off and taking three long strides back to get a look at his kakugan.

The door burst open, but she didn't care. She stared, the medical eyepatch dangling from her finger, and she exhaled shakily.

"Touka!" Kaneki had caught her around the shoulders and yanked her back, even though she'd put a good distance between herself and Mutsuki. She was angry. No, she was  _pissed_!

"There's  _more_  of you?" she snapped, elbowing him in the stomach, her body coiling defensively. She didn't like that he was touching her. It didn't even feel like he was trying to restrain her, so much as he seemed to be hugging her back to his chest. "What the  _fuck_? What the fuck, Kaneki! What did you do?"

"This wasn't me!" Kaneki gasped as she tore herself free and shoved him back against his bookshelf. There was still an empty space missing from when she'd stole  _Alice in Wonderland_. "I didn't know this was happening!"

"What  _is_  this?" She heard her voice, which had lowered in octave, becoming sharp and biting. "What is happening? I swear, Kaneki, I swear if you don't tell me the truth—!"

"You wouldn't know if I was telling the truth or not," Kaneki said in a low, dull voice. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring past her face, into a grand abyss beyond her head. Like he'd lost connection too. "Calm down, Touka. Give me back the eyepatch."

"Tell me what's going on," she said flatly, pulling the eyepatch closer to her. "What are you hoping to achieve? With this?" She held up the eyepatch, shooting him a scathing look. "With this spy bullshit? How the  _hell_  are we supposed to trust you, Kaneki? All you do is keep secrets!"

"Touka, I haven't told you anything because, frankly, you don't  _know_ me!" Kaneki's voice was thin, his eyes dull and sad, and she realized he sounded desperate. Like this was the last thing he'd wanted. "I'd tell you anything if you seemed interested, but you're so—!"

Her nostrils flared in contempt. "What?" she snapped. "I'm so what?"

Kaneki slumped. He remained ungodly quiet, his eyes lowering toward the floor. That only made her angrier. Why didn't he just say it? Did he think it'd hurt her fucking feelings? Newsflash! She didn't care! She'd been called every fucking name imaginable at some point or another. What could this goddamn fool say to her that would hurt her?

"Mutsuki," Kaneki said quietly, "it's okay. She's fine, you don't have to be scared."

Touka whirled around, finding Mutsuki watching her warily with both eyes narrowed. His kakugan was veinless, his sclera like a hole in his skull and his iris like a blood moon. He'd backed away, but in his fist he held a small knife. What was that going to do?

Then it clicked.

"You're a dove too," she whispered. She took a step back. Kaneki caught her by the shoulders before she bumped into him, and in her terror she stumbled away, finding herself on the defensive. Why had she come here? Why was she so stupid?

"He's just a kid, Touka," Kaneki sighed, shaking his head. "You just scared him. Why do you have to be so mean? He can't make his kakugan go away, so he wears the eyepatch to feel more comfortable." He stepped toward her, and he offered out his hand. "Give it back."

She glanced back at Mutsuki sharply. "What do you mean he can't make it go away?" She found herself growing guiltier, her heart sinking into her chest as she realized what a grand fucking bitch she'd been. She had no excuse. She was just so tired, so angry, and so emptied of the emotions she craved. She wanted to go back in time, but she couldn't, so she was rejecting the present and damaging her future.

Kaneki held his hand out to her. She scowled at him, and dropped the eyepatch into it.

"Mutsuki," Kaneki said, "come here. Give me your quinque."

The boy didn't come right away. He seemed entirely too wary, like he didn't really know what to do, who he should listen to, but he was obedient nonetheless. He moved to Kaneki's side, handing the knife over without comment and taking his eyepatch back gratefully.

"Okay." Kaneki seemed to relax. "Good. Touka, apologize."

"What?" she asked flatly.

"Apologize to Mutsuki for being so rude." Kaneki had taken on such a scolding tone, she wanted to hit him. He sounded like a  _mom_ , like she was a little kid who'd shop lifted from a candy store.

Touka gritted her teeth. She glowered at Kaneki, and then turned sharply to face Mutsuki. "I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "Please don't report me."

She realized as she was speaking those words that it was necessary for her to say them. Mutsuki could ruin her life. He could ruin Anteiku.

All because she'd fucked up.

Mutsuki glanced at her, his eyes flickering over her face. She found her fingers clenching into fists, her arms folding around herself, as if that might protect her from the power these two held over her.

His expression softened so much that it seemed to become fuzzy. He bowed his head, holding his eyepatch gingerly in his fist.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I won't tell anyone. I was never going to."

"But you were okay with killing me?" Touka's eyebrows raised. "Nice."

"No!" Mutsuki shook his head furiously. "No, I wasn't going to kill you! I just… you were scaring me. I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure I could… get away, I guess…"

"Touka," Kaneki warned. "Mutsuki was raised to fear ghouls. You can't blame him for being defensive."

"I'm not mad." Touka had actually relaxed considerably. She looked Mutsuki in the eye, and shrugged. "I'd do the same."

And it was true. She'd kill Mutsuki if it meant keeping her secret.

Maybe he sensed that. And he understood. Because he smiled at her sadly. As he put his eyepatch on, Kaneki studied him curiously.

"You knew," he realized. "You knew the whole time that Touka was a ghoul."

Mutsuki glanced back at them. He offered a small shrug. "I suspected," he said. "But… you trusted her not to hurt me. And I trust you, Kaneki. So I won't tell anyone, okay? I promise."

Touka remained sort of unconvinced. She couldn't help but be distrustful. Wasn't that just her nature? Trust little, love less, hope the loneliness didn't devour her whole. And then the cycle repeated.

She felt so bad.

So, so bad.

There was no explanation. Was there even a solution?

Why was she here?

"Kaneki," she said, staring at a wall and feeling like she'd lost. "I need to talk to you."

"Huh? Oh." He nodded, glancing at Mutsuki. "Of course. Come—"

"I can leave." Mutsuki turned away and strode quickly toward the door. "I'm so sorry for all the trouble, Miss Touka."

"Ah… right…" She watched him close the bedroom door. She sunk into herself. She felt out of place. When she looked up at Kaneki, he was watching her intently. "What?"

"Oh," he gasped, averting his eyes quickly. "Sorry. I'm just… confused. Why did you come here, Touka?"

She exhaled sharply, biting at her cuticles. She needed to sit down. So she sat.

She needed to scream. So she closed her eyes, and she clamped her jaw shut.

"Touka?"

She was sitting on his bed, and she heard his voice floating nearby. She realized he was probably kneeling beside her, because she hadn't felt anyone sit on the bed, and she could tell he was eyelevel. She squeezed her hands in her lap.

"Touka, talk to me." Kaneki took on a specific sort of desperation whenever he talked to her. She noted that he always seemed to want to sound small beside her booming voice. Why? Why did he do this? It only made her want to punch him more. "You didn't come here just to yell at Mutsuki. Is everything okay?"

"No."

"Then talk to me."

"God," she spat, shooting him a furious glare. "Let me think, okay?"

"Okay." Kaneki stared at her, and then he lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Please… just shut the fuck up…" she murmured, covered her eyes with the balls of her hands. "Please…"

Thankfully, he did just that.

After a few minutes, she took a deep breath, and she dragged her hands down her face. "Oh my god…" she groaned. "This is so fucked up."

"What is?" Kaneki watched her. His eyes were soft and understanding. She stared at her lap. She laughed uneasily, and the sound was thick and shaky, like she was on the verge of tears.

"I feel like I'm being followed by ghosts," she whispered.

Kaneki's eyes were dark and tired, sunken into the hollows of his skull. His dark hair was unkempt, wild and knotted, as though he'd forgotten how to use a comb. He looked like he'd spent too many nights staring at the ceiling above them without blinking once. His body language conveyed all his sadness. All his exhaustion. All his fear.

There was a lot going on inside his head. She doubted that he'd ever open up even if they somehow became close.

"Ghosts, huh?" Kaneki smiled. He plopped against the floor, turning so he could lean his back up against the bed. "Yeah, I get that. Like all your desires and all your dreams turned into something real, and now they gnaw at your mind until there's nothing else really left but a hollow longing for something you can never have."

"What was it like?" she asked quietly. "Being human, I mean, like… what was it like to just feel freedom? To never be scared? To live in a fat and happy ignorance?"

"It was…" Kaneki sunk, his hands closing between his knees. "Do you want the truth, Touka?"

She scoffed. " _Yes_."

He stared at the opposite wall.

"I wasn't happy," he said calmly. "When I was human, I was only ever loved by one person. I didn't feel like I had a purpose. It was like I was just dragging everyone around me down, so I never made meaningful relationships aside from the one I already had. If Hide were anyone else, my personality probably would have just shooed him off." He looked up at her, and he smiled. "Before I came to Anteiku, I think I was just really very sad."

"And now you're part of the CCG," she whispered. "And your life is just peachy?"

"No, the CCG sucks." Kaneki closed his eyes, resting his head back against the bed beside her. "Everyone's after something there, and I can't tell what the endgame is. I don't think the people who work there know everything that they should, and I don't think the higher ups are as moral as they're portrayed in like, the media and stuff. From what I've seen so far, the organization is a beast in itself. It's effective, and the workers are really diligent and good at what they do, but it feels like everyone on the upper management has their own agenda."

"Is that how you struck this dumb deal?" Touka squinted at him. "You appealed to some crusty old man's lust for power?"

"Essentially." Kaneki shrugged. "I can't be sure if it'll work. We're both banking a whole lot on it, so it's not like either of us are going to trick the other. If it goes downhill, I will probably die, and he will probably lose his job, his respect, and his influence. Maybe even his inheritance? I'm not quite sure, but it's a big deal."

That was something new to her. Hearing it come from Kaneki made her feel somewhat at ease. Like the plan wasn't as ludicrous as it had once sounded.

"Yomo said that Nishiki is going to be your spy," she said. "Why him?"

Kaneki opened his eyes, and he glanced up at her bemusedly. "He's just the best option," he said. "His life is already in shambles, he has a great excuse to be joining Aogiri, and frankly no one would suspect he was feeding info to the CCG since, you know, the CCG almost killed him."

It was smart. She couldn't deny that. It made so much sense, and she hated it.

"I want to do it," she declared.

Wait.

What?

Had she gone fucking insane?

Kaneki jerked upright, twisting around to face her with his eyes so huge that they made his face look infinitely younger. His mouth fell open, and he searched her face.

"Touka, no," he gasped.

"What do you mean, ' _Touka, no_?'" She straightened up, her jaw setting. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do. I want to do it."

"Touka, do you understand how dangerous this is?" Kaneki gasped, on his knees before her, looking ready to fucking pray. "Nishiki's only doing it because we don't have any other viable options! His life is  _already_  over, so it's not like he's uprooting himself. You have a life! You have school, and friends, and Anteiku!"

"They'll still be here," she said calmly. Why was she speaking so calmly? Why didn't she feel like screaming anymore? What was this? "I'll run away. Kids do it all the time. Yoshimura will have to report it so he doesn't look suspicious. The police will come, ask questions. Yoshimura will just have to say that I was a troubled kid, that I had trouble with school, that I was angry and mean, and my brother was just the same. When I come back, it'll be like, well, whatever." She shrugged. "People disappear all the time, Kaneki. Nobody will be that sad if it's me."

"That's a fucking lie," he snapped.

"I don't care!" She leapt to her feet. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to do this, and you can't stop me. Tell fucking Nishiki that he can kiss my ass for saving his!"

She marched up to the open window, and she jumped onto the sill. She heard Kaneki calling her name behind her, but she didn't care. She'd already made up her mind.

It was gonna be fucking hard for anyone to change it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saga, sagae.  
> witch; wise woman.


	14. peregrinor

How did the left become the leaver, anyway?

What had pushed her to this point?

Her every waking moment from here on would be filled with regret. She couldn't deny that. She'd pay a hundred times over for her sins simply for caring. Or was it the opposite?

Did she just care too little?

Did she even care at all?

Who she hurt? Who hurt her?

She felt like she needed to dig deep within herself. Beneath the muscle, between the blood and guts and bone, and figure out who the hell she was and who the hell she wanted to be.

"Now, what's your name again?"

Hinami's thin shoulders were splattered black. It looked like a demon had gurgled up bile and vomited it onto her head, thick rivulets as of inky liquid sliding down her neck and collarbone. Her little shoulders rose up. They dropped.

"Fuji Hina," she said softly, wiggling in discomfort. Touka tried to pat down her back with a towel, but it just made her grimace. "I'm thirteen years old. I'm homeschooled. I live with my cousin here, at Anteiku, because my mom works internationally."

"Good." Touka's fingers were stained black. She glanced at the instructions on the box bemusedly, dark streaks smearing across the face of the uncannily attractive smiling woman on the front. Ah, she probably should have worn gloves. Now the tips of her fingers were blackened, dark water coagulating around her finger nails. "Yuck."

"Big sis, is it supposed to look like this?" Hinami asked weakly, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was in a jumbled mess upon her head, wet and dripping with hair dye. Her entire scalp was black.

"Yeah, don't worry." Touka glanced away, choking on her own lie. She had no idea what she was doing. "I'll let you do mine sometime."

"Really?" Hinami sounded so eager, her head twisting up so she could meet Touka's eye.

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll go lilac at some point. Or like, a nice teal color maybe? Or baby blue. Something like that."

"Ahhh!" Hinami clapped her hands together excitedly. "So pretty!"

"Okay," Touka said, pushing her shoulders back gently. "Let's wash this shit out."

"Mm, okay!"

Touka hadn't told her yet.

How did you even tell someone you were abandoning them?

It was so hard. Especially for Touka, who knew exactly how it felt to be left behind without warning.

Doing this to Hinami was so cruel. She knew that. But she was doing it anyway.

Why? Why was she doing this? Why didn't she just back down? Kaneki certainly didn't want her to do it. Yoshimura would disapprove, when he found out. She was throwing away her life, essentially, and for what?

For Ayato?

Was she really that deluded to think that he would fucking care?

A voice was whispering in her brain.

_Why do you hate being happy?_

What a miserable existence she intentionally led.

Hinami's hair didn't look  _that_  bad. Like, it was hard to fuck up black hair, but Touka had tried to cut it beforehand, and now her bangs were awkward and uneven. She spent the remainder of the night scrubbing her fingers while Hinami soaked in the tub, both of them ardently attempting to rid themselves of the black stains.

She was trying to figure out how to deal with Yoriko, first and foremost.

Did she just stop talking to her?

That was really cruel. And Yoriko would get worried, too. Come knocking on Touka's door, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong. And all she'd receive would be Hinami. What a nightmare.

She thought about just simply leaving. Going off on her own without a word. That would be easier. Right now, scrubbing the dye from beneath her nails, she was filled with an irrefutable dread. Talking would make it worse. Talking about it, she knew, would cause her to consider all the possible outcomes of this divinely fucked up situation, and if she thought about that, then she'd just go fucking insane with the revelation that she had  _no_  idea what she was fucking doing.

Hinami fell asleep on the couch, black hair curling around her cheeks, and Touka could only stare. Because there was a twisting sort of ache inside her stomach, the kind of coiling pain that came with buckling concern.

Who would take care of Hinami after she was gone?

There was an abrupt, vicious pounding on her door, which alarmed her to the point where she nearly smashed her head on a cabinet above the sink. She flicked the faucet off and rushed to the door, her eyes glued to Hinami's stirring body. She yanked the door open and shot a fierce glower at whoever decided to pound the ever loving fuck out of her door.

"Yo," Nishio Nishiki spat. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. She'd forgotten he'd bleached his hair, and the white curls fell against his forehead as he lowered his chin to glare at her. "So what's this bullshit about you wanting to be a fucking spy?"

She shoved him back into the hall and gingerly closed the door behind her.

"What?" Nishiki threw his arms out. "What is it?"

"You're being too damn loud," Touka hissed, yanking him by the arm and dragging him down the hall. "What the hell do you even want?"

"What do you think I want?" He yanked his arm from her grasp, pushing her shoulders sharply and causing her to stumble away from him. "You're a crazy fucking bitch, you know that?"

"I'm well aware, you shitty nerd," she snapped. "Yes. I'm fucking crazy. Thanks so much for that goddamn assessment."

"Why would you tell Kaneki that you'll be the spy?" Nishiki's jaw set, and she watched him fold his arms across his chest, his eyes averting. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah?" She offered a meager shrug. "I don't give a shit what you think, okay? Like, shouldn't you be  _glad_?" She rolled her eyes. Her mouth was dry. "I'm saving your ass here, pal."

"You think you're helping me?" He barked a cynical little laugh that pattered on the corners of the walls and dripped down like wet paint. "Man, you must have some distorted image of what "helping" means."

"Do you really want to go be a spy?" Touka asked flatly.

"Of course not," he scoffed. "And you do?"

Touka bristled, her jaw setting furiously.

"Exactly." He shook his head. White curls shifted in the dim light. Shadows danced upon the hall floors, writhing beneath their feet. "You don't want to do this. No one wants to do this."

"But it has to be done," she muttered, "right? Like, someone is gonna do it. Someone has to."

"It doesn't  _have_  to be you."

 _Yes it does._ Her thoughts were clogged with dust, and her eyes were crusted with scales. She wanted to rub it all away.

"I know I seem like the shittier choice," she admitted. She leaned back against the wall, stuffing her stained hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. "Like, okay. You're smarter than me. Whatever. Your life went down the toilet because of the CCG. Yeah, that's true. But like, you're personality? Man, it's so fucking shitty."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Touka met his eye, and she smirked. "You're just a waste of oxygen, Nishio Nishiki. Actual garbage. Who's going to accept you? Trust you?"

"Because your personality is all fucking daisies and feathers!" He whisked his fingers through his hair, his breath a short, sharp exhalation, like a knife whistling through the air. "You're throwing your life away, you know that? Do you fucking understand that, Touka?"

"I've come to grasp that fact, yes."

"And you don't  _care_?" Nishiki's eyes flashed wide. "Are you for real? You have a nice life, the kind of stability lots of ghouls would kill for. And you're giving that all up. For what? What the hell is in this for you?"

"Nothing," she said simply. "I don't get any prizes or praise for this. I know that. I'm not doing it for me, Nishiki."

He stared at her blankly, studying her features with a sudden spike in interest. Like he needed to memorize her facial structure, the way her nose turned, the breadth of her cheekbones. She felt like she was being scrutinized, his eyes peeling back the layers of her skin, piercing through bone, and picking at the surface of her brain until they found exactly what she was afraid of.

"Oh. I get it." Nishiki was watching her now with some irritating mixture of awe and pity. "There's someone you care about involved."

Touka grimaced, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to protect them," Nishiki sighed. "Like, if they're part of this shit show then maybe you should just let the doves pick 'em off."

"It's my brother, Nishiki," Touka said coolly.

He looked slightly taken aback and immediately remorseful. His mouth opened, and it shut. She did not feel satisfied with this development. She felt cold and worn out.

Nishiki took a deep breath. He rested his back against the wall beside her, staring out into space.

"Fuck," he uttered softly.

She did not respond. She concurred wholeheartedly.

"Touka," Nishiki said, glancing at her sharply. "Don't do it."

"What?"

"Your brother is probably a little punk," he said firmly. "Don't throw your life away because he did."

"This isn't up for debate," she snapped, pushing off the wall and rounding on him. "Newsflash, buddy, I don't give a fuck what you think!"

"Clearly." Nishiki's hands had balled into fists. "Don't do it, Touka."

"Did you honestly think that you coming here was gonna do a thing to change my mind?" She scoffed. "You're way more stupid that I thought. Which is saying a whole lot."

"What if you get hurt? What if he finds out that you're a traitor?" Nishiki's hands clapped against her shoulder, and she jumped. "Touka, I get that he's you brother and shit, like I know why you care, but what if he ends up hating you?"

"He already hates me." Touka shoved him back, and she allowed herself to take a few strides away from him. She needed room to breathe. "Stop. Stop acting like you care so much."

"What the fuck is wrong with me caring?"

"It's weird, and it feels fake. Stop forcing yourself to lecture me about this stuff." She raised her head up high. "Do you feel guilty? Let me soothe your ego. I'm not doing this for you. I'm not doing this for me either. I can't tell you  _why_  I decided to do it, but I can tell you that I have to. So quit this bullshit, Nishiki. I am doing this. So you can walk your skinny ass right back to Yomo and tell him you're sticking around."

"And what, exactly, are you doing, Touka?"

A sudden chill ran through her, sinking into her bones and causing her to freeze up. All her muscles were tense, all her organs clenching, to the point where she felt like she'd been seized by a giant hand and was being squeezed until her eyeballs popped out.

She saw Nishiki's face. He looked surprised. She knew he'd meant well, trying to come here and bicker with her until she relented but now he'd really fucked her over.

Maybe that's what he wanted.

"Did you not tell him?" Nishiki eyed her suspiciously. When she didn't respond, her body coiling back, he laughed. It was a bitter little sound. "Figures! Were you just going to leave without telling anyone?"

"No." It wasn't a lie, really, was it? She had considered doing that, but she hadn't actually decided yet! So it wasn't really a lie. Right?

"Nishiki." Yoshimura was hovering close to her back, his shadow yawning over her. "Why don't we go downstairs? The shop is closed for the night, and I'd like to hear more about this… leaving."

Touka actually gulped.

As she sat in the stool at the counter, she was reminded of when she'd first come here. She and Ayato had sat in these chairs, staring glumly up at Yoshimura as he'd poured them coffee and given them a stern lecture. Now Nishiki was next to her, and she had a feeling this wouldn't be so different.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee always made her nerves tingle. It alerted her senses, drove her to sit up straight, talk slower, more precisely, and smile even when she felt like she needed to rip out someone's spine. It was a happy sort of conditioning. She enjoyed the ease she felt when she was in this atmospheric cloud of steam and the crisp aroma.

She squeezed her hands together in her lap, watching Yoshimura set a cup before her.

"Now," he said, wiping his wizened hands off gingerly against a rag. "Please explain."

"Touka wants to take my place as the spy," Nishiki told him curtly.

Yoshimura's eyes slid to Touka's face. She took the cup from its dish, the heat pressing deeply through the pads of her fingers and into her bones, and she took a great gulp. It was scalding as it washed down her throat, threatening to flay the first layer of skin off the roof of her mouth.

"Is that so?" His brow was heavy as he watched her. "Touka, may I ask why?"

She slumped forward, her cup cradled in her hands.

"Ayato," she said quietly.

Yoshimura inhaled sharply. And then, without warning, he smiled.

She stiffened as his hand clapped against the crown of her head. Her heart was arrested and her skin was prickling from the rising gooseflesh. She felt warm.

"We all have the desire to protect the ones we love," he sighed. "It is a pure, instinctual facet of both humans and ghouls. We will do… reckless, painful, unsightly things for our loved ones. Those things may not always be the right things."

"It doesn't matter what's right or what's wrong," Touka said hoarsely. "If I cared about that, I wouldn't be potentially helping the doves wipe out a bunch of ghouls. Frankly, I… I don't care. I just want to make sure that when it comes down to it, Ayato is safe."

Yoshimura removed his hand from her head, and it left her feeling cold and empty.

"I cannot command you," he said sadly. "I can't tell you to go to your room, to forget all of this. Nor am I deluded enough to even  _presume_  I have the capability to change your mind. But I will tell you my personal feelings." He closed his eyes, and he bowed his head. "Losing you, Touka, will cause me immense pain."

She felt nauseous.

Why did she feel so sick? Why did his words strike her like a hammer to her ribs? Why did everything seem like it was spinning? Why did this have to hurt her?

Her throat was aching. She swallowed thickly, looking down into her lap to avoid staring into Yoshimura's eyes.

Then, without warning, she met his gaze sharply.

"You won't lose me," she told him firmly.

He smiled at her in a way that suggested he already had.

* * *

"Did you know the penalty for harboring a ghoul is actual prison time?"

Both Kaneki and Mutsuki froze at once, their bodies stiffening in a similarly shrinking manner, and their eyes slid simultaneously to Hide's face. They stared, their gazes sharp and fearful.

But Hide didn't notice. He kept on walking.

Kaneki was the first to recover, smiling vacantly. "Where did you hear that?" he asked.

"I read it?" Hide glanced at him. His eyes flashed to Mutsuki. "Hey, Kaneki's part of the CCG, so no worries."

"R-right…" Mutsuki had been quiet lately. Kaneki wondered if it was because of the nightmare he'd had earlier in the week. He'd wet the bed.

Well, Kaneki was jumping to conclusions, but he couldn't think of any other reason why Mutsuki would abruptly wash the sheets in the middle of the night.

"That's so excessive," Kaneki murmured.

"The CCG is  _so_  extra," Hide said with an energetic shrug. "If you hadn't actually gone to them, I wonder what would've happened. Do you think I would've been caught? Thrown in jail for helping you?" Hide clapped his hands together excitedly. "It'd be like a daytime drama!"

"I don't think you would've been put in jail," Mutsuki piped up. Hide glanced at him curiously, and he shrugged. "You're too smart, Hide."

Hide's hand clapped over his heart. "You," he gasped, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, "are the kindest little child. My sweet son."

"Hide, stop," Kaneki groaned. Mutsuki was getting uncomfortable again. Fidgeting with his coat hem, shrinking back, glancing around wildly in order to avoid looking at Hide.

"Ah, sorry, was that too much?"

"A little."

"You know I'm just joking, right, Mutsuki?"

"Aha… yeah." Mutsuki smiled at Hide gently. "It's okay. I just get really surprised whenever you say stuff like that."

"What, that you're sweet?" Hide's brow rose to an inexplicable height. "Don't make me cry."

"Ah, no, I mean… you keep calling me your son, which is…" Mutsuki scratched his head pensively.

"Noo, now I'm _definitely_  gonna cry!" Hide's hands clasped over his mouth, folded as if in prayer. "Do you not want me to dad you?"

"You're… only a few years older than me…"

"Mutsuki…" Hide whined. "Why are you robbing me of my dream to become a jolly middle aged man?"

"Hide, what the fuck?" Kaneki was smiling, but honestly, he could not dream up some of the shit Hide said sometimes.

"You're eighteen," Mutsuki gasped. "Shouldn't you be more concerned with like, college kid stuff?"

"Parties are boring," Hide said firmly. "Parenting is so much more fulfilling. Mutsuki!" Hide swept himself down into a deep bow. "Please let me adopt you!"

"Hide!"

Mutsuki didn't really say anything in response. He merely stood, startled and confused, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Kaneki took him gently by the arm and pulled him away. When Hide realized he'd been left behind, he shouted after them.

"This family doesn't appreciate me!"

"How is he always like this?" Mutsuki exhaled. "Does he… ever just run out of energy?"

"Never." Kaneki smiled fondly. "I think he has like, rechargeable batteries or something?"

"That makes sense."

As they continued walking, they noticed Hide hadn't followed them. Kaneki stopped, and he turned around.

Behind them, Hide was chatting with a young woman with neatly cropped hair. Kaneki realized he recognized her.

Nishino Kimi bowed her head at Hide in gratitude, clutched her bookbag tightly, and swiftly walked away.

"Who's that?" Mutsuki asked.

"Uh…" Truthfully, he'd forgotten all about Kimi. That was probably really rude of him, but he had a lot on his plate since Nishiki had gone underground. Of course it'd be difficult to explain the whole thing to Mutsuki. "She's the… ex-girlfriend of someone we know."

"Oh."

Hide wandered back over to them, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Kaneki studied him curiously. "What was that about?"

"Isn't Kimi so cute?" Hide winked. His voice was doing that little lilt it did when he talked to Touka.  _Kimi-san_. "She just gave me her number."

"Does that mean you and Kaneki are getting a divorce?" Mutsuki asked.

Kaneki and Hide stared at him.

"Finally," Hide whispered, his eyes lighting up. "Finally you have succumbed to the inevitability that is my banter. Give me a hug, son." Hide opened his arms, and Mutsuki took an uneasy step back.

"Ah… no thank you…"

"Well, fine then," Hide scoffed. "I see how it is."

"So why did Kimi give you her number?" Kaneki asked curiously. "I sincerely doubt it's because of your good looks. Or charm."

"Why must you vex me so?" Hide whispered, staring sadly at Kaneki's face.

"It's like, my unofficial job to trim your ego monthly."

"My ego is vibrant and bold and does not  _need_  your oppressive "trimming" to be beautiful."

"I'll be right back," Mutsuki blurted, making a beeline for the nearby bathroom. Kaneki and Hide stopped.

"So…" Kaneki turned his back to the bathroom. They'd been on their way off campus, since it was their lunch break, and Hide had insisted on taking Mutsuki to Big Girl. "What was that thing with Kimi  _really_?"

"Ah…" Hide scratched his cheek. He pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out of his jacket, and he twirled it between his two index fingers. "She gave me this to give to Nishiki."

"What?" Kaneki was taken aback. He didn't know why, but Kimi's devotion to Nishiki always shocked him. "How'd she know to give it to you?"

"Uh, she said Nishiki told her to use me as a messenger?" Hide shrugged, slipping the note back into his pocket. "Man, I am the best delivery boy. Oh my god! Kaneki!" Hide snatched Kaneki by the shoulders and beamed at him.

"Hide, please give yourself more credit than having your life goal be a delivery boy," he said weakly.

"No, Kaneki, you don't get it, I wanna be the  _best_  delivery boy!"

"I think there's a pizza place near my apartment that's hiring," Kaneki said, brushing Hide's hands off his shoulders.

"Oh my god." Hide grinned. "I'm applying."

"Okay."

"I'm going to take pizza to your apartment."

"I can't eat it."

"Sorry, buddy, but that's your problem. Me and Mutsuki can finish a whole tray, I think."

"Probably not," Kaneki admitted. "Mutsuki's appetite is strange. He doesn't eat that much."

Hide stared at him blankly. He smiled. This was the most forceful smile Kaneki had ever seen Hide wear.

"Kaneki," he said calmly. "Please pay more attention to Mutsuki."

"What?"

"He's a fifteen year old boy who doesn't eat like a garbage disposal," Hide explained. He was speaking in an even tone, like the man on nature documentaries who commented on the terrain. "I don't want to psychoanalyze the kid, okay? Just talk to him, please, and make sure he's not depressed."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Kaneki couldn't even figure out when  _he_  was depressed. If he was ever not depressed. How was he supposed to milk that information out of Mutsuki?

"Um, sit him down," Hide said, "and ask him what's wrong."

"Well I've  _tried_  that!" Kaneki huffed. "He just denies that there's anything wrong. And I don't want to make him nervous, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that." Hide ruffled his hair. "He's like, the most nervous. Please take care of him, he's got more nerves than even you."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Bro, I'm always here to throw down the truth," Hide said. "You were the most anxious person I knew until I met Mutsuki."

"Okay." Kaneki nodded. He couldn't deny it, or anything. "Should we go check on him?"

"Would you want someone to go check on you while you're shitting?" Hide rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be the smart one. This is appalling."

"Stop, Hide, I'm serious." Kaneki turned around. He felt like something was wrong. He needed to get attuned to his senses. He definitely smelled something off.

In a violently familiar way.

"Wait," he murmured. He started forward. As he neared the bathroom, the scent grew stronger. He didn't want to wind back the clock, but this was all so nostalgic. In the worst way. Really. Fucking terrible. This smell was just the most clingy, senselessly thick cologne burning the inside of his nose, and he'd really appreciate it if the smell would stop.

Kaneki all but kicked the bathroom door open.

"Mutsuki," he said, his eyes meeting Tsukiyama's. He didn't even have to look around to see what was going on. He'd already known. "Leave with Hide."

"Y-yes…"

Mutsuki moved overwhelmingly fast, brushing past Tsukiyama and toward the door. Tsukiyama caught him by the wrist.

"Have I done something to offend you?" His eyes were large and beseeching. Pathetic. "Ah, you must be more modern than I initially thought. I've done some reading on—"

Tsukiyama was knocked back by a surprising amount of force as Mutsuki elbowed him in the gut, using the hand that was immediately freed to smash his briefcase across Tsukiyama's face.

Mutsuki then promptly ran like hell.

"Please follow him," Kaneki told Hide. Hide did a mock salute, whistling low under his breath as he wheeled around and jogged after Mutsuki.

Kaneki stepped forward, his shoes clapping against the grimy tile. His fingers tightened around his briefcase as he watched Tsukiyama flex his jaw, gingerly patting his cheek.

"You know," he huffed, "that almost actually hurt?"

"I told you to leave him alone," Kaneki hissed.

Tsukiyama glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. He raised his chin, and he offered up a shrug. " _Mea culpa_ ," he chuckled, covering his eyes daintily with his hand. "I just couldn't stay away."

"You are literally going to get yourself killed," Kaneki snapped. "Like, do you not grasp the whole investigator thing?" He held up his own briefcase, which was heavy and bulky and honestly annoying to carry around. But he was getting used to the weight of it. "I could kill you right now."

"You let me go the first time." Tsukiyama smirked. "I wanted to test my luck. You two, you are not like those other doves. I just have to know, how  _did_  two ghouls end up in the CCG?"

"Do you really think I'm in the mood for a friendly chat?" Kaneki's eyes flashed, and he felt his kakugan beginning to form, the skin beneath his eye twitching. "Do not terrorize that boy. Do not talk to him, do not stalk him, do not try to flatter him, because that won't work on him."

"You're being so dramatic." Tsukiyama folded his arms across his chest. "Can't we just have a nice conversation? Let me start. Hello, my name is Tsukiyama Shuu. And you are…?"

"Not stupid." Kaneki glowered at him. "How many times do I have to say this before it is drilled into your goddamn head? I am a  _ghoul investigator_ , and you are going to  _die_  if you don't back off."

"What I find really hilarious is that you think that's a threat to me." Tsukiyama's smile was thin and bright. "Clearly you don't know who I am. You also neglected to turn me in to your superiors last time, which got me thinking. You don't want to hurt me at all."

"Oh my god…" Kaneki dragged his hand down his face.  _I forgot how fucking ridiculous he was,_  he thought furiously. "Stop stalking Mutsuki. If you're so keen on harassing someone, then fight me."

"That sounds like a lovely invitation." Tsukiyama tilted his head. "Where and when?"

Kaneki wanted to scream. In his head, he was. He was screaming. His thoughts were all just in uppercase, pounding at the walls of his skull.  _I! WASN'T! SERIOUS!_

"Meet me in hell," Kaneki said coldly, whirling around. "Whenever the fuck I decide to tell the entire First Branch that the Gourmet is Tsukiyama Shuu."

Kaneki marched out. He knew even before he opened the door that he'd fucked up.

Tsukiyama was going to take this as a challenge.

"Hide," he called as he stepped out onto the campus. His white coat was beating against his thighs from the abrupt chill of wind. He felt sick knowing that he'd just done something that could potentially make his life a lot harder.

He spotted Hide and Mutsuki sitting on the ledge of a fountain nearby. He quickly moved toward them, noting Mutsuki's posture, his hands wrung between his knees, his head bowed. Hide's hand was on his back.

"Mutsuki," Kaneki gasped, kneeling down in front of the boy. "Hey, did he do anything to you?"

Mutsuki shook his head mutely.

Hide glanced at Kaneki. It was a meaningful glance, but Kaneki couldn't quite read it.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki sighed, closing his eyes. "This is my fault for not reporting him."

"Do you know him too?" Mutsuki's voice was hard. Bitter. "Is that why?"

"What?" Kaneki's eyes snapped open. He stared at Mutsuki, who was glowering at the ground somewhere far away from Kaneki's face. "No, Tsukiyama is… different. He's not nice like Touka is. Please try to stay far away from him."

Mutsuki glanced at him. His visible eye looked dead and tired.

"You're so strong," he said softly, "but you didn't even try to fight him just now. Why is that?"

Kaneki inhaled sharply.

Tsukiyama was a problem. He didn't  _have_  a good reason to protect him. Hell, he shouldn't be. He should just let Tsukiyama deal with the consequences of being such a shitty person. He hadn't even considered heeding Kaneki's warning, and blatantly ignored it in favor of treading on thin ice. He would die if he continued on like this.

"I give people the benefit of the doubt, I guess," he said dully. "Plus, Tsukiyama won't yield. I'd have to kill him if we fought. I don't want to kill anyone."

"You're in the wrong profession for that mentality, Kaneki," Mutsuki whispered.

He smiled. "I know," he said.

* * *

Running away felt the way remembering you forgot a pencil before a math exam felt. It was icy, dull, and panic inducing. You put a few things in a bag. You revel at it.

There is something truly humbling about realizing your entire life can be condensed into the contents of a single backpack.

Hinami didn't even have a backpack. She had a medium sized purse packed about halfway full. There were two dresses, a spare pair of shoes, a toothbrush, and a Takatsuki Sen novel inside it.

She didn't say goodbye. Yoshimura had asked her to let him know when she would be leaving, but she thought that if she went to him one last time, hugged him and thanked him, it would be too much. Even her resolve could falter when her emotions ran high.

Hinami was clearly confused, but she'd asked no questions while Touka had packed two bags. One for Hinami and one for herself.

Perhaps she was used to this. Being uprooted was likely a familiar, stinging sensation to a girl who'd been urgently bounced from home to home to home, shedding pieces of herself with every tragedy that erupted every step of the way. Her black hair fell straight, smooth, and a little uneven. Touka hid her ugly bangs with some pins and a backwards cap. Touka let her wear her clothes. A cute letterman style jacket that swam on Hinami's frame, a pair of overalls that she'd cut to about half way up her thigh. On Hinami, the overalls reached her knees, and generally the outfit was cute, and befitting a child. Touka also thought Hinami looked slightly androgynous, which, from experience, was a good thing when trying to lay low.

Hinami held her hand as they walked through the city. Touka was wearing her sparring joggers, her worn, sturdy brown combat boots, and a faux fur-lined leather jacket, the warmest jacket that she owned. Inside her bag were similar items. Changes of shirts and underwear. The patterns of her shirts were mostly gray, white, and black. Striped sometimes. She had one with black and white roses blooming across the length of the blouse. It was the prettiest thing she owned right now. She hoped she wouldn't get blood on it.

She led Hinami up the stairs of a surprisingly nice apartment building. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but everything was bright and clean, and the people who walked past smiled politely. That was more than she could say for Yomo's building, or even Kaneki's.

When she knocked on the door, Hinami finally broke.

"What are we doing, Touka?" Her hand was clenching Touka's so hard that the bones in her fist felt close to snapping in half. She had left out her usual sing-song " _onee-chan_." Perhaps that had been intentional.

"It's a long story," Touka told Hinami softly, pressing her hand to the top of her head. She would have mussed her hair if the hat hadn't been in the way.

Hinami looked pensive. She watched Touka's face, her warm eyes dulling with every passing second. She turned her attention toward the door before them.

"I don't mind," she said softly. "If I'm with you, I don't think I'd mind leaving this ward, or Tokyo, or Japan, even."

Touka felt a pang of regret slicing through her heart.

She squeezed Hinami's hand, a desperate reflex to save her desperate thoughts. She couldn't waver now.

She couldn't.

"You don't mean that," Touka said quietly.

Hinami smiled without looking at her.

"I got you into trouble," she said sadly. "I wish I could be strong like you, Touka. I wish I was strong enough to protect people like you do."

"Hinami…"

The door swung open.

Hide's face did not betray his initial shock for even a fraction of a second. But Touka knew he was shocked. She could tell by the way his shoulders tensed, by the way the door had stopped halfway open.

"Oh, wow," he gasped, pushing the door open further. "I feel like the world's luckiest man, when the world's two most beautiful women show up on my doorstep!"

"Hide!" Hinami cried excitedly, bolting forward and throwing her arms around him. He caught her and swung her around, her feet lifting off the ground for a few seconds. Her giggles ricocheted off the floor. Touka stood, gripping the strap of her backpack, and she already found that she felt out of place.

"Look at that hat!" Hide snatched it from Hinami's head and put it on. Hinami's uneven bangs fell into her face as Hide plopped the hat on his head, and he blinked wildly. "Hina, did you cut your hair by yourself?"

"No," Hinami gasped, flushing in contentment. "Big sis did it for me."

"Side bangs suit you," Hide said, brushing the uneven strands aside gently. "That was a good call, Touka."

Touka scowled. She knew how bad it looked.

"Come in, you guys." Hide stepped aside, half-dragging Hinami with him, to allow Touka to step inside his apartment. Like Kaneki's, there was a kitchenette immediately upon entering the living room. The difference being that Hide's apartment was far more spacious and open, albeit more cluttered and disorganized. Hinami was bouncing on the balls of her feet as Hide shut the door behind them.

"You didn't say we were coming to Big Brother Hide's house," Hinami gasped, looking around excitedly.

"She didn't tell me you guys were coming either," Hide laughed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I actually just got back from class, so you made good timing. Actually, Touka, shouldn't you be in school?"

Touka's jaw set. She shrugged, thumbing her backpack straps and staring at a wall.

"Have you talked to Kaneki?" Hinami asked Hide eagerly. "He came to visit a little while ago, but he was kinda in a hurry. He brought another boy with him, and they smelled the same. Is that boy like Kaneki?"

"Mutsuki?" Hide scratched the back of his head, smiling slightly. "Yeah, kinda. They act a lot alike, don't they?"

"She's asking if Mutsuki is a half ghoul like Kaneki," Touka sighed, not tearing her eyes from the egg-shell texture of the white walls. "Which he is."

"Actually," Hide said weakly, holding Hinami's hands as she rocked back on her heels, leaning away from him, "technically Mutsuki isn't a ghoul."

"Look, I don't give a fuck about technicalities," Touka sighed. "That kid has a kakugan, right?"

"He can eat normal food," Hide said, pulling Hinami over to his couch and plopping down. She burst into a fit of giggles as she fell back, kicking her feet up into the air. "I have no idea how they managed it, but Mutsuki is like the best possible combination of ghoul and human qualities. He doesn't need to eat humans to live, but technically he has the capability to use the kagune. He's like a glimpse into a really nice future."

"What kind of future is that?" Touka shot him a cool glance. He watched her, his brow furrowing bemusedly. Hinami settled down, her eyes flickering between them rapidly.

"A future where ghouls and humans can coexist peacefully," Hide said calmly.

"That sounds like a delusion," she told him curtly, folding her arms across her chest. "You… you guys are all so delusional."

He managed to smile, though it looked a little strange. "You've talked to Kaneki, huh?" Beside him, Hinami perked up, looking sharply at Touka. Her eyes were wide and gleaming, as though reflecting some terrible betrayal. Touka swallowed hard.

"You're all crazy," she said quietly. "There will never be peace between ghouls and the CCG."

Hide simply sat and stared at her, a knowing smile bright on his lips. She wanted to smack it right off. She imagined what it would be like to break this boy, to hear his nose crunch beneath his fist, to feel his blood seep into the lines of her knuckles. He didn't deserve it, but she wanted it to happen anyway.

"You're right," Hide said, his smile wide and his eyes closing contentedly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're right," he said, leaning back against the couch, stretching his arms above his head. "Kaneki's running a fool's errand. Nobody wants to hear the bullshit he spouts about ghouls, especially in the CCG. He'll probably just end up getting hurt in the end."

"Then why are you letting him go so fucking far?" Touka snapped, striding forward toward him. "You're his friend, aren't you? You arrogant asshole! Do you  _want_  to see him get hurt?"

"Of course not," Hide said quietly. He dropped his arms into his lap, folding his legs and hunching forward. He was smiling fondly. "I just don't want him to hate me for disagreeing with him." He scratched his cheek, looking sheepish. "I'm a pretty shitty friend, huh? I can't even protect him from himself because I'm so selfish."

"Hide…" Hinami sat beside him, her eyes heavily lidded and her head bowed. "Kaneki is a good person… he wouldn't hate you for helping him."

"Kaneki  _is_  a good person," Hide said. He shrugged. "I don't really want that to change. I only interfere in his life when I have to."

 _Does he not know about Kaneki's plan_? Touka had to wonder what was going on in Kaneki's head half the time. This made no sense. What could Kaneki gain by all of this? Why was it so secretive?

"Do you think Kaneki's wrong?" Touka asked softly.

Hide smiled at her warmly. "There's nothing wrong with fighting for what you believe in," he said.

"You're avoiding the question." Touka glowered at him. "Do you think ghouls and humans can reach a compromise? Live together in a world where hunting one another is an archaic practice?"

"It's nice to imagine that," Hide said brightly. "Can you imagine the history books? They'll call our generation violent and bigoted, and ghouls will either be victimized or demonized. Who will be the villain, I wonder?" Hide laughed. Touka was undeniably uneasy, feeling that Hide was talking out loud without realizing what he was saying.

"The villain will be whoever loses," Touka told him flatly.

He looked at him. His eyes had lit up, as though she'd recited a thread of poetry to him.

"That's right," Hide said with soft, yet vibrant little chuckle. "History is written by the winners."

"Ah…" Hinami shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "That sounds scary. How can there be winners or losers between so many people?"

"That's just the way war is, Hinami."

 _War_ , Touka thought numbly, a chill shooting down her spine.  _Is that really what this is?_

If this was a war, than she'd been a refugee for so long that she could not possibly remember the feeling of liberty.

And now she was going off to fight. For what?

There was no honor in being a spy. She was throwing herself into a thankless position where she would be hated by everything and everyone around her. She was discarding her home. Selling out her own people. Working for the very organization she vehemently despised.

"Hey, Hina," Hide said brightly, lifting the cap from his head and dropping it onto Hinami's. "There're some books in my room that Kaneki gave me forever ago. Do you wanna look through them? You can keep any one you like."

"Really?" Hinami gasped, jumping to her feet. "I can keep them?"

"Yep!" Hide beamed up at her. He pointed to a door off to the right of the kitchenette. "Right through there."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course?" Hide snorted, rolling his eyes back into his skull. "Kaneki gives me way too many books. Like, I love the guy, but I'm more of a visual learner. I have trouble paying attention to blocks of text like that."

"Thank you, Hide!" Hinami gasped, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tight. He merely laughed as she hurried away, leaving the room so fast that Touka had to blink. Now she was all alone with a boy she couldn't quite wrap her head around, her words dying in her throat, and a heavy silence coiling around her chest.

Hide tilted his head.

"Sit down, Touka," he said, his usual  _Touka-chan_  dull and distant. "I know you want to say something important. Please don't make this hard."

She swallowed thickly, her eyes flitting rapidly towards the door. She cautiously moved toward the couch, sitting down awkwardly on the edge. Hide stared at her, a stupid little smile glued on his face.

"You'd think I was the ghoul, the way you're acting," he joked, flopping onto his side and tossing a pillow at her. "Loosen up, Touka."

She grabbed the pillow and whipped it back at his face.

Hide's laughter echoed against the walls, and rung inside her head, and she glared at her hands in her lap.

"You came here for a reason," Hide said, hugging the pillow and resting his chin upon it. "Come on. Tell me what's up."

She could hear his laughter in her head even after it died, like a brass instrument serenading her thoughts.

"I have to leave," she said quietly.

"You just got here, Touka…"

"No." She looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing. "Hide, I'm leaving. I'm leaving Anteiku, I'm leaving school, I'm leaving my life."

He stared at her vacantly. His smile was still there, irrationally, stretching on his thin lips and making him look so fucking composed. How did he do that?

"I want to ask why," he admitted, "but I don't think that's something you want to tell me."

"You'd be correct."

"Okay." Hide studied her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he squinted at her. "I'm not really following though. Why did you come here? To me?" He laughed easily. "Has my restless flirting finally paid off?"

Her jaw clenched. She rolled her eyes.

"No," she said flatly.

"Damn."

"Ugh," she grumbled, leaning back against the couch. "God. I wanted to ask if you could take Hinami."

Hide was silent.

"For… a walk?" Hide asked weakly.

"You know exactly what I mean, Hide."

"Well, shit." Hide's eyes were wide. He ruffled his hair, chuckling nervously to himself. "For real?"

"Hide, I have to go. She can't come with me."

"Right, right… but like…" Hide's eyes whisked around the room. He stood up, looking for the first time like he was really anxious. Touka couldn't help but stare. She'd never seen this before. "Here?"

"No, on the fucking moon." Touka watched him warily. "What? What's wrong? Did I jump it on you too fast? I didn't have much time to prepare, okay."

"No, I can…" Hide exhaled. He laughed. He scratched his cheek and then dragged his fingers through his unruly blonde hair. "Oh. Shit."

"Can you do it or not?" she snapped.

Hide was staring at a wall vacantly, his smile wide and empty, reminiscent of a bottle of bubbles that had been poured down the drain.

"She can't stay here," he said quietly.

Touka exhaled. Her hands tightened into fists in her lap. She stood up.

"Fine," she said. "Thanks, or whatever. I'll see you again, maybe. Maybe not."

As she strode up to Hide's door, he snatched her by the arm and whirled her around.

"How much trouble are you in?" he asked her urgently.

"Let go of me!" She bared her teeth, her boots skidding back on his hard wood floor. She hadn't even taken them off upon entering. That had probably said a lot.

"You guys can't stay here," he said, his grip tightening on her bicep, "but I might be able to find a place for you to stay. How bad is it? Hinami's hair is dyed— I can help you with yours, if you want. Bleaching is easy if you've done it enough—"

Touka's eyes widened. She stared at him, listening to his words, finding that they fell through her ears and poured out around her.

What was he doing?

What was he saying?

She felt like she was drowning in words.

"—you'll have to stay in Tokyo for a little while, but I can get you a fake ID. Maybe even a passport if you give me a few weeks. Do you need a fake name? You can use my last name if you need to. Does Kaneki know about this? I won't tell him, but maybe you should let him know you're leaving—"

"Hide." Touka shoved him away from her, a wave of dizziness coming over her as she realized how truly strange this all was. This boy was completely human. Why was he offering to help? In such intense length? She couldn't wrap her head around it. "I don't need any of that. Hinami can't come where I'm going anyway. I just… I need to make sure she's not alone. If you can't do it, then whatever. I'll… I'll figure something out."

She whirled around, gripping the straps of her bag tightly as she marched to Hinami's room.

"I can take care of her," Hide blurted.

Touka turned to glance at him incredulously.

He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Ah, please here me out!" He looked around the living room, and he shrugged. "I have to stand by what I said before. She definitely cannot stay here."

Touka exhaled shakily. "What the hell  _are_  you saying?" she asked sharply.

"Well, you're scared about her being alone, right? Why can't she just stay at Anteiku?" Hide smiled. "If that's possible, I think that's the best option for her."

"She'd still be living in an apartment alone," Touka said flatly. "And Yoshimura can't take care of her. You were there when that was brought up, right? Anteiku can't be responsible for her, even though she lives there."

"I'll come there," Hide said brightly. "I can take care of her without actually living there!"

"That's stupid."

"No, it'll work." Hide was beaming. "I can do it. Touka, please trust me."

"You can't just run in and out of Anteiku like that," Touka gasped, her face scrunching up as she tried to imagine it. "The customers will think you're a fucking weirdo!"

"I  _am_  a weirdo, though!" Hide was grinning. "Who cares? Touka, I can do this!"

"Ugh…" She wrinkled her nose. "That's still my apartment, you know…"

"I won't sleep there," Hide promised. "I'll just stop by regularly for Hinami. She can stay here sometimes, but like… not… that often…" Hide laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's complicated, but this way is better. Trust me."

Her eyes narrowed. Trust him?

Did she have any other choice?

"Okay… fine." She dug into her pocket, pulling out her lanyard. Hide watched in awe as she fiddled with her key ring. "You can have the key to my apartment. I technically don't need it anymore." She tore the key off the ring violently. She held it up. "You can have this."

Hide reached for it. Touka yanked it back.

"I have two conditions," she declared. Very loudly. Very boldly.

"Of course," Hide laughed.

"One," she said, pointing at him with her key, "you will not mess up anything. I want the apartment to be the same way it is now when I get back. And you're definitely giving me my key back when I get back, asshole."

"Of course," Hide repeated, snickering into his hand. He looked highly amused. "What's the second condition, your highness?"

She wanted to kick him. She growled, and she turned away, biting her cuticles nervously. Hide seemed to grasp how serious this was, and he leaned forward.

"What is it?" he asked far more gently. "What do you need me to do?"

She glanced up at him, and she smiled sheepishly.

"I need you to do a little job for me while I'm gone," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peregrinor, peregrinavi, peregrinatus, peregrinasum [intr].  
> to live abroad; to travel abroad.  
> (fig) to be a stranger.


	15. noctiluca

Dealing with the misfortune of being a personal pet project of Koutarou Amon was difficult. The man had gotten it into his head that Kaneki was uneducated in the matters of ghoul affairs, and that he should see first-hand what the learning environment for future investigators truly is.

Kaneki Ken was being schooled.

Literally.

He didn't know what it was about the Junior Academy that was so reminiscent of a prison. The corridors were spacious, and the classrooms were meant to be filled up, a lecture style architecture in mind. The children were not overtly unhappy, and they made their way about, bumping into one another and laughing in the halls. But still. There was something distinctly confining about these walls.

The sensation that no one here had a choice. Like no one here could actually leave.

"Why am I here, again?" Kaneki asked weakly as Amon led him from classroom to classroom. All Kaneki had really done was hang out on the sidelines and listen to the man lecture about ghouls. It was all stuff Kaneki already  _knew._  Like, he had experience fighting ghouls. Hell, he probably could give these kids a lesson or two about how to deal with the nastier ghouls that hung around Tokyo.

Of course Kaneki knew why he was here.

Amon thought that if he heard the usual bullshit the CCG brainwashed their young with, Kaneki would have a change of heart.

Seriously? Did he think it would be that fucking simple?

"I thought getting away from the office would do you some good," Amon said offhandedly, smiling at an acquaintance who had walked past and waved. "Becoming a good investigator depends on how dedicated you are to your cause. And we all have very different causes."

"What's yours?" Kaneki asked curiously.

Amon glanced at him. They entered an empty classroom, and he reclined against the air thoughtfully.

"I want to correct the wrongs of the world," he said slowly. "Ghouls are wrong."

"So are humans," Kaneki offered without missing a beat.

"I'm not going to entertain you this time, Kaneki."

Kaneki smirked. There was some satisfaction in knowing Amon was sick of fighting this fight.

"And these kids," Kaneki said, "what are their reasons? Like, beyond hating ghouls?"

"Ah." Amon sighed, setting his briefcase and messenger bag on the table beside the podium he was set to speak at. "That's difficult. Like I said, everyone has different reasons. For this Academy, however, I think it's safe to assume most of them are after revenge."

Kaneki sat down cautiously on the corner of the table, squinting at Amon's face. "Revenge," he repeated. He'd known that this would be a thing, and he understood it, but it was still jarring. These kids seemed pretty normal. It was odd to think that they might be harboring murderous tendencies due to a troubling past. Though Kaneki couldn't really judge. "Are you after revenge, Amon?"

The man had settled at the podium, shifting notes from his bag to his rostra. He didn't look particularly fazed, which was telling, because Amon often wore his emotions as some people might wear glasses. He sighed quietly, a quick exhale that drifted off as he rolled his shoulders.

"We lose people we love in this line of work, Kaneki," he said calmly. He did not look Kaneki in the eye, perhaps because he knew Kaneki's viewpoint, and could not bear to let him see the ugliness inside of him. "I… am definitely angry. I don't think I'm the kind of person who can forgive easily. And yes, I have known many people… many close friends who have died at the hands of ghouls. They are rotten. All of them."

"All of them."

"If you want me to say "except you," well, you won't be hearing it." Amon sighed, closing his eyes. "I don't consider you to be a ghoul."

"You're deluded and sentimental," Kaneki told him sharply. "You can't keep pretending like the thing you hate isn't right beside you. What are you really thinking, Amon? If you want to hate all ghouls, you know you have to hate me too."

"I'm sick of this conversation," Amon said curtly, his eyes squeezing shut. "Enough of this, Kaneki."

"There will never be enough, because I will always be this thing that you are  _so_  disgusted with." Kaneki scraped the toe of his shoe against the dull green carpet. "Why do you keep fighting me on this? I know what I am."

"And I know that you are a completely different entity than any other ghoul." Amon glanced at him coolly. "Frankly, you don't count."

Kaneki hung his head back and groaned. Would this debate ever end?

The kids began filing in one by one. Some looked excited. Others glanced at Kaneki bemusedly. Some looked simply disinterested. Kaneki continued to sit on the table, though he repositioned himself so he looked slightly more professional than he'd initially seemed.

"Good morning," Amon began in a level, open voice that spread quickly across the room. It didn't quite boom, but he certainly provided a looming presence when he spoke. "As you all may know, I'm Rank 1 Investigator, Koutarou Amon. Accompanying me today is Rank 3 Investigator, Kaneki Ken."

Kaneki stood up for a moment when his name was said, leaning forward slightly in a semi-bow. The students looked at him strangely. This hadn't been the first class they'd gone to. Thus far there had been no issues, but anything could happen. Anything could set off a chain reaction that would cause Kaneki and Amon to argue.

"We're here to inform you of what field work actually entails, and what it's like to fight ghouls."

Immediately someone rose their hand. It was a boy near the back of the lecture hall, tall and lanky. Amon nodded curtly at him. "Yes?"

The boy stood up. His eyes slid to Kaneki.

"Mr. Koutarou," he said, his distinctly forced and cold  _Koutarou-san_  ringing throughout the hall. "I understand that you've come to lecture us, but what can a Rank 3 Investigator teach us about field work?"

Kaneki felt personally attacked. Like, he knew more about ghouls than any kid here! And why were they judging him based on his rank, anyway?

Luckily for him, Amon had his back.

"Kaneki is exclusively a field operative," he stated. His voice was clipped and firm. "He is here because he is an invaluable resource, and his rank only tells you his experience, not his skill. Count yourself lucky to be sitting in that seat, because not all investigators have the privilege of being educated before going out into the field and risking their lives."

The boy looked slightly stunned. Some of the other kids around him chuckled a little, and one actually tugged on his sleeve to make him sit back down. He gave a jerky nod, and sat.

"You are all here specifically because your lives have been uprooted by ghouls," Amon began steadily. "You are not alone. Ghouls are pests in our world, gluttonous beasts that take and take without caring how they affect anyone else. They are a destructive force, and it is our job to stop them."

Kaneki had heard this several times today. But this time was different. This time, Amon had stopped, taken a look down at his notes, and then turned to look at Kaneki.

"My colleague will share with you an anecdote about some of his encounters with ghouls," Amon said, gesturing to Kaneki broadly.

All eyes landed on him.

He froze up.

An anecdote?

A thousand things went through his brain at once.

_Let me show you a special skill. I can count backwards from a thousand._

_Do you want to know what a centipede funneling through your ear canal sounds like?_

_Choose. Mother or child?_

_Who do you save?_

_Ghouls taste like raw bear meat. Grisly and chewy and too thick to really swallow properly. The blood runs down your chin, and you think it's different, that this is something different, like you're a better person because you're tearing off a chunk of a ghoul's thigh instead of a humans, but it's all the same going down, and you're no better for being a cannibal._

_Would you like to meet a ghoul?_

_Let me show you._

"Kaneki?"

He was snapped out of his reverie, finding himself being stared at intently, so many eyes boring into his that he wanted to shield his face and cry to the heavens that he was so fucking sorry.

He smiled.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he laughed weakly, leaning back against the table. "I don't want to scare them."

The kids erupted in quick objections. Give them some credit, they said. They knew what ghouls were like, they said.

Kaneki sat down on the desk.

What story should he tell?

He stared at his hands.

And then he looked up.

"I once knew a very nice woman," he began, feeling Amon's eyes on him. They were the most heated. Out of all the gazes that seared into his skin, Amon seemed to summon the pits of hell with his stare. Inferno at its finest, coming to gobble Kaneki up. "She was quiet, kind of subdued. She'd recently lost her husband— he'd been attacked by ghouls. So she was left to raise their daughter on their own, but she didn't really know how to support them. She was getting desperate, bouncing from place to place, barely providing anything more than shelter for them both. This woman was losing a lot of hope, convincing herself that she couldn't live much longer without her husband there. And her daughter was helpless. You guys get to go to school— the CCG provides you that generosity, at least. This girl moved around too much. She was so intelligent, but she never got a proper education, so she struggled with reading and writing. She never really understood that there was a threat out there, because her mother shielded the truth from her. But inevitably, the ghouls came back for her mother."

It was strange how every person in the room seemed to hang on his every word. He heard his own voice, like a soft-spoken narrator of a period piece. Like he was reading lines from  _The Iliad_ , gilding his voice to keep the flow, weaving his words delicately so they all could feel the tragedy within them.

"I was there when they came," he said. "I tried to stop them. I couldn't. The woman died trying to save her daughter, who managed to get away. I can't tell you what happened to her."

He really couldn't. Amon was standing right here.

The room was very quiet. Kaneki raised his eyes, noting the discomfort in some of the kids' expressions. Others looked awed.

"That's… so sad," a girl in the front row said softly. There were murmurs of agreement.

Amon watched Kaneki dully. When Kaneki met his eye, he turned away.

Later, when all the kids had dispersed, Kaneki helped Amon gather his things.

"Why did you lie?" he asked.

Kaneki shuffled the papers quietly, lining them up against the table and tapping them twice. He looked Amon in the eye as he offered them.

"Because we are the monsters in someone else's story," he said coldly, leaving the papers to wilt in Amon's fist, "and you don't get to feel guiltless."

"You knew them." The papers crinkled as Amon clenched his fingers. "You knew Fueguchi personally, and you never said anything?"

"Are you going to throw me in Cochlea for that?" Kaneki asked dully.

Amon's eyes flashed in fury. "This is serious!" he snapped, grabbing Kaneki by the lapels of his white coat, and jerking him forward. "Was that why? Was that why you defended her?"

Kaneki couldn't even find it in himself to feign shock. He let himself be throttled, his eyes dull as he watched Amon's face. He glanced away.

"Oh my god…" Amon's knuckles bit into Kaneki's collarbone. "God, tell me you didn't know they were ghouls the whole time."

"I don't have to tell you anything," Kaneki snapped. "I'm not defending myself. I'm just stating the facts. They were both innocent, and you made a point of executing a helpless mother in the street."

"She fought back!"

"She was saving her daughter!" Kaneki shoved Amon, which forced him to release his grip on Kaneki's lapels. "Why do you insist on belittling the feelings of ghouls? They love and hate and cry and die just like us!"

"They are  _not_  like us!" Amon's brow was furrowed to the point where there seemed to be mountains creasing his forehead. "They mercilessly kill and eat people!"

"There are bad ghouls who do that, but like I've said time and time again,  _not all ghouls are bad_." Kaneki exhaled sharply, gathering his bearings and feeling his shoulders shake in his cold rage. He needed to go sit down.

"Kaneki…" Amon was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking tired and spent. Kaneki didn't want to know what he looked like. Probably similar. "This fight is exhausting."

"You think?" Kaneki spat, folding his arms across his chest and shrinking back defensively. "I don't know why you're so closed minded. I know exactly what kind of evil ghouls can do, but I still don't hate them as vehemently as you."

Amon sighed deeply, as though he were releasing all his emotional baggage, and he shook his head.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Kaneki," he said. "I don't think I can change for you. You make no sense."

"That's only because you're blinded by prejudice," Kaneki gasped. "If you would just think for a minute, just realize that ghouls are people too—!"

"I'm done with this conversation," Amon cut in sharply.

Kaneki couldn't help but feel angry that Amon had cut off the debate so abruptly. He gritted his teeth and looked down at his shoes. He wondered what Touka would say in his position, if Amon had done this to her. She'd probably get up in his face and start snarling about how spineless he was. Don't start a fight you can't finish, Amon. Or whatever.

As they made their way out of the classroom and down the hall, something seemed to occur to Amon. He paused and looked around, his eyes darting curiously.

"What?" Kaneki prodded him, his arms still folded across his chest impudently.

"Ah…" Amon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I only just remembered, I've lectured here before. The Second Junior Academy. I think it was two or three years ago now."

"Oh. That's neat." Kaneki glanced around. "Any kids you know here?"

"That's what I just remembered." Amon frowned deeply. "They were two girls. Twins, the Yasuhisa sisters. I wonder if they graduated."

"Yasuhisa…?" That was familiar. Kaneki was struck for a moment by the sensation that there was something here he should know.

"Right. Yasuhisa Kurona and Yasuhisa Nashiro. They should still be here…" Amon looked troubled. "They were really enthusiastic about becoming investigators, and they had so much potential. I wonder why they didn't come."

Kaneki grew wary.

 _What do I do?_  he wondered, staring at Amon's face and realizing that his man was far too compassionate for his own good. It was familiar, Kaneki knew. It wasn't like he could deny it. He and Amon circled each other, repeating the same cycles. Caring too much. Too little. All at once or not at all.

"If you want," Kaneki offered, "I can go to the registrar's office and see if they graduated or not."

"Really?" Amon's eyebrows shot up behind his bangs, though he seemed cautious. "That's not really necessary, you know."

"No, it's totally fine!" Kaneki rose his hands and began to back away. "Besides, you have like, what? Two more lectures to do? I can just run over to the office real quick, like you won't even know I'm gone."

Amon frowned at him. He seemed mildly offended, as if Kaneki had made some kind of smart remark against his person.

"You're ditching my lectures?" Amon's shoulders squared, and he actually held his hand over his heart. "I feel like our friendship has been wounded."

"Yeah, like the incessant fighting about ghouls hasn't done that already," Kaneki laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "But… really. I need a break. I've been hearing the same stuff for hours, and to be honest, hearing you demonize ghouls over and over again is really draining."

Amon looked genuinely taken aback. He let his small smile fall away, and he looked remorseful. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You know nothing I say is directed toward you."

 _One day you're going to see a bad part of me,_  Kaneki thought sadly,  _and you're not gonna like it._

"I know that," Kaneki sighed. "It just bothers me. You know? So I'm going to just go take a break. Sort things out. It'll be fun."

"Okay, Kaneki…" Amon looked mildly concerned until he checked his watch. He seemed to realize he had to go. "I'll meet you at the entrance in an hour."

"Sure."

And then Amon was gone.

Kaneki stood thoughtfully, pushing his hands into the pockets of his long white coat. He began walking, the empty corridor leaving space to crawl and gasp and hiss around him, cool air pouring through his ears and out his mouth. Empty spaces made him feel so strange. Like he should be lonely, but instead he felt wary. Like he was being watched.

Nashiro and Kurona. Twins…

He stopped halfway down a stairwell, his eyes widening at nothing. An alabaster wall stared back at him, the quiet staircase echoing his breaths as he heaved a great sigh.

It couldn't be.

Kaneki bolted, running down the stairs two at a time. His coat flew back around him, billowing at his knees as his feet clapped against the vacuous stairway, a hollow sign that denoted urgency but not life. He pushed off the stone steps and steadied himself, taking a brisk, hurried pace down the corridor full of offices that they had passed earlier in the day to sign in.

"Hi," he said breathlessly, pushing his hair out of his eyes and smiling sheepishly at the man sitting at the desk. "Sorry to bother you, I'm just looking for some students that might go here?"

The man was middle aged, with the sort of long face that was reminiscent of a long-beaked bird. He frowned, and he squinted at Kaneki suspiciously.

"Do you have some ID?" he asked.

Kaneki pulled his wallet out of his pocket, and showed him the badge and ID card the CCG had gifted him. The man took it, examined it, and his frown deepened. He clapped the wallet shut and handed it back.

"What exactly are you looking for?" he asked. "I might be able to pull up some records."

"Um," Kaneki said, glancing around. "Yasuhisa Kurona and Yasuhisa Nashiro. I just want to know if they graduated or not."

"Hm…" The man swiveled toward his computer, his fingers dancing away at the keys while Kaneki stood awkwardly in the doorway. Seconds ticked by. And then minutes. He picked at his nails anxiously. Then, suddenly, the man swore under his breath.

"What?" Kaneki gasped, leaning forward. "What is it?"

"Looks like they're not even registered in the system," the man murmured, scratching his head bemusedly. "I remember them, though, I know they were here at one point."

"Oh, wow." Kaneki's eyes were wide. His stomach had tied up in anxious knots. "That's… strange."

But was it strange enough to warrant concern?

Nashiro and Kurona.

What were the odds?

The man sighed exasperatedly, and stood up from his chair.

"Hold on a moment," he said. "I have to find the hard copy of their files."

"That's fine!" Kaneki waved his hands quickly as he stepped further into the room. "Take your time…"

The man shuffled through a whole filing cabinet in his bemusement. He was definitely trying to go by year, but it was likely he'd forgotten what year the Yasuhisas had actually come here, and thus had to guess. By that point, Kaneki was standing in front of the desk, leaning forward to catch a better look at the files.

He thought he'd caught a glimpse of a name.

"Wait," he blurted, "go back."

The man paused, his fingers separating two files, and he glanced at Kaneki incredulously.

"Does that say  _Mutsuki Tooru_  on it?" Kaneki asked, pointing at the file that half stuck out of the cabinet drawer. Part of him was itching to rip it open and absorb all of its secrets.

"Oh. That kid?" The man lifted the file up. Kaneki was surprised to see how thick it was. There were papers spilling out of the ends of the manila folder. "You just missed him. A weird one, too. The  _stories_  people made up about him." The man chuckled. "It's like Suzuya never left, honestly."

"Suzuya Juuzou?" Kaneki was reeling. How many people did he know that had gone to this Junior Academy?

"Is that what the kid is calling himself now?" The man sighed, and he shook his head. "I can't keep up."

Kaneki was interested about Suzuya, and whatever trouble they'd gotten into when they'd been here, but he was more focused on Mutsuki.

"People made up stories about Mutsuki?" Kaneki placed his hands on the desk, his jaw setting. "Why?"

"Do you know him, or something?" The man was squinting at Kaneki again, like Kaneki was lying about being who he said he was, which was something truly uncalled for.

"We're roommates," Kaneki said. His eyes traveled to the folder in the man's fist. "May I see that file?"

"No, you may not?" The man looked at Kaneki sharply. "I don't care who you are, you need to give me a legitimate reason to read a file here. Or a search warrant. Got it?"

Kaneki threw his hands up in defeat. "Yes," he gasped. "I get it, I'm sorry."

"Uh huh…" The man slammed the drawer shut. "Can't find the file. Unfortunate. Right?"

"Uh… yeah…?" Kaneki stared at him. The man stared back blankly.

"Have a nice day," the man said.

"Okay. Um, thank you." Kaneki waved awkwardly. "You too?"

He walked away feeling like he was about to get a hit put on him for knowing too much. He didn't even know too much. He knew, basically, nothing at all.

Yasuhisa Nashiro and Kurona.

Something was wrong here.

And where did Mutsuki fit in?

Stories? As if Mutsuki, meek little Mutsuki Tooru, could cause enough trouble to be compared to Suzuya?

Kaneki wanted to know what was going on around here.

He walked away slowly, dazedly, hopelessly trying to tie the strings together.

"Excuse me," Kaneki gasped, flagging an older looking student down. "Did you happen to know Mutsuki Tooru?"

The girl's face twisted into a grimace, and her friends glanced at each other worriedly.

"I remember him," she said, wincing a little, as if she found it painful to bring up the memory. "Is he okay now? I heard he went back to the hospital."

"You actually felt bad for him?" one of the girl's friends blurted, looking alarmed. "He was so creepy!"

"He was quiet, yeah, but…" The first girl looked uncomfortable, her eyes flashing away. "I never saw him actually hurt anyone. He just seemed shy to me, and no one ever talked to him. And after what happened a few months ago…"

"What happened a few months ago?" Kaneki asked her urgently.

She glanced at him. She bit her lip uncertainly, her dark gaze flitting away sharply.

"You're an investigator," the friend pointed out, her brow furrowing. "Why are you asking about that kid? Did he die, or something?"

"No," Kaneki said stiffly. "He's my friend."

Both girls looked at each other in astonishment. The first girl bowed her head apologetically. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I've been very rude. I didn't know him personally, he's younger than me by two years. But everyone knows about him."

"Why?" Kaneki asked incredulously, his nerves jumping restlessly as he tried to puzzle together what these girls were saying. Hospital?  _Back to the hospital_. For what? Why would Mutsuki be hospitalized? Was he sick? "Is it because of what happened a few months ago?"

"That was a whole different issue," the girl sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Listen, if he's your friend, it's not really my place to tell you."

"I'll tell him," the friend chirped, much to the other girl's dismay. "Mutsuki's crazy. Like, actually certifiably insane. He likes cutting things. Like, it used to be only animals, but a few months ago—"

"Oh my god," the girl gasped, grabbing her friend's shoulder, "cut it out!"

But the other girl would not stop. She was looking into Kaneki's eyes, speaking with the utmost severity.

"He cut himself up so bad, he was out of school for a month. When he came back, he didn't talk to  _anyone_. It's not really surprising that he dropped out."

Kaneki watched her with dull eyes. He found himself exhausted suddenly, as though her words had drained him of all sense of care. He felt the urge to shove her, to make her pay for being so insensitive and cruel, but he had a feeling it wasn't her fault. He recalled how eager Mutsuki had been to get away from this place.

Why?

What had happened here?

Kaneki didn't quite believe the girl's tale, that Mutsuki had cut animals—had cut up  _himself_. Like, what the hell was that about? Sure, Kaneki didn't know Mutsuki  _that_  well, but even if he was as self-destructive as, say, Kaneki, it didn't make any sense that he'd cause anything else pain. No, none of this information added up.

This settled it.

Kaneki was getting that fucking file.

He went back into the building, pausing outside the registrar's door. He looked around him, his eyes scanning the walls hastily. They fell upon a clock that had been mounted on a far wall, half concealed by the protruding corner. Kaneki pressed himself up against the wall, and he untucked his shirt, letting a singular limb of his kagune slither out from the small of his back, scaling close to the wall and curving above the registrar's door. It hooked the clock onto its claw, prying it slowly from the wall.

And then, with an immense amount of force, he flung the clock across the hall, watching it sail around the corner and listening to the resounding  _smash_  that shook the entire corridor.

He promptly hid behind a corner, listening to a chair screech, and feet shuffle hurriedly. Kaneki peered around the corner, watching the man's back as it moved down the hallway, slow and uncertain.

Without missing a beat, Kaneki slipped into the registrar's office, walked over to the cabinet with Mutsuki's file in it, and cautiously opened it. The sound it made was ungodly loud, and Kaneki found himself wincing. He yanked Mutsuki's folder out of the drawer, and promptly closed it.

When he turned around, he noticed two other files on the desk.

He stared at the names blankly.

 _Yasuhisa Nashiro_  and  _Yasuhisa Kurona_.

That motherfucker.

Kaneki scooped up all three files, pushing them beneath his coat and walking briskly out of the room, as though he had gone in merely to see if the registrar was in.

He was not.

As far as Kaneki could tell, he was still examining the remnants of the clock that had landed halfway across the corridor.

Where did he even begin?

What was the likelihood of these girls being Shiro and Kuro?

Kaneki stepped out into a courtyard, pulling the files out from within his coat and flipping one open. It just happened to be Kurona's.

The first thing he saw was a simple photograph of Kuro's unsmiling face as she sat in front of a plain white wall. It was an identification photo. She looked very young, far younger than Kaneki remembered her, and her black hair was chopped into a neat little bob that ended at her chin.

"Holy shit," Kaneki murmured, backing up slowly, and plopping down onto a bench. Shiro and Kuro were with the CCG. And— wait,  _Kanou_! Kanou had been affiliated with the CCG too, right? Was that how he'd gotten ahold of Shiro and Kuro? They were orphans, wards of the CCG, and… they'd turned against the organization.

From what Kaneki understood, he and the Yasuhisa twins were polar opposites.

He had been forced into this life. Chosen to reveal his power and give up his freedom to the CCG.

And they had chosen this. Defected from the CCG and become rogue ghouls. Experiments.

What had become of them, in the future past? Kaneki could not recall. That day had been such a mindless blur. Pain and disgust coiled within him. He could taste the blood and the skin caught between his teeth. Even now. He remembered ripping open an artery, and the warmth of the acrid blood pouring into his mouth. It was like warm lemon juice. It didn't satisfy anything.

It just made him hungry for more.

He shook his head fiercely, slamming the file shut. He had to talk to Amon.

When he raised his head, he found that a man had stopped before him. He stared. The man stared back.

"Hello?" Kaneki averted his eyes. This man had a very intense gaze, one eye permanently sunken, and the other torn wide open. There was something about his eyes, about the way they settled upon Kaneki's face that made him feel like he was falling backwards in the sands of time, and drowning in the ocean that came to lap up the memories.

He was so heavily scarred that Kaneki itched to ask what had happened to him.

"Kaneki Ken, was it?" The man's voice was low and gravelly, the kind of voice that stuck with you long after you parted. Kaneki thought he might hear that voice in his head when he was in the dark, the sort of deep, whispery sound that could be heard behind walls, behind the cracks in doors. "My name is Tokage Goumasa. I heard you know one of my former students."

"Huh?" Kaneki's fingers clenched the files tightly, covering the names scrawled neatly on the adjoining tabs anxiously. "Oh! Wait, are you talking about Mutsuki?"

"Mutsuki Tooru." Tokage looked at Kaneki as if he could see the way the ridges of Kaneki's brain were formed. "Is he… doing well?"

"He's fine." Kaneki smiled tightly. He didn't feel right here. There was something unbearably familiar about the atmosphere this man let off, and everything in Kaneki told him to run for it. "I think he's still adjusting, but from what I can tell everything is okay. Why do you ask?"

"Ah…" Tokage's eyes averted sharply, and his scarred lip twitched. Was it a smile or a grimace? Kaneki could not tell. "Mutsuki was a troubled kid. I was simply curious about how the real world was treating him."

"He's fine," Kaneki repeated firmly. "And what do you mean by troubled? I've never had any issue with Mutsuki."

Tokage chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It's not my place to say," he rumbled, his mismatched eyes flashing in the sunlight. "But with a past like his, it's no surprise that he has made the choices he has."

Kaneki stared at him, at the way his disfigured lips curled, and his fingers dug into the files, denting the folders and causing creases to erupt.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Kaneki snapped, rising to his feet. Tokage glanced at him dully.

"I don't know what you mean," he said simply. "I told you who I was."

"Not your name, I mean your place here. Are you a teacher?" Kaneki's eyes whisked briefly over the man's face. "Are you in the guidance department? Do you have any real clearance to be speaking about Mutsuki like this?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just wondering," Kaneki gasped, feigning an expression of subtle innocence. "I mean, you said you knew him, right? Normal teachers don't take such major interest in their students. It's sweet of you to ask about Mutsuki, but I can assure you, he's perfectly fine."

Kaneki felt the lies roll around inside his mouth, and he spat them softly, sweetly, wishing he could just make them truths.

His phone began to buzz, and he swiftly snatched it from his pocket. He'd already been thanking any and all forms of deities for blessing him with Hide, who would save him from this excruciating conversation. But when he checked the caller ID, he found it was a number the phone did not know.

Even so, he recognized it.

"Excuse me," he told Tokage curtly, brushing past the man and flipping his phone open. "Hello?"

He heard a deep, irritated sigh from the other line.

" _Hi_ ," Touka said dully. " _It's Touka. I'm outside a bus station_."

"That's good," Kaneki said, his voice softening. He couldn't keep the sadness from dripping into his tone. That's good? What good was going to come from Touka leaving? Risking her life for this mad plot he and Yoshitoki had concocted?

" _I just wanted to let you know,_ " she said. " _I have to stay in contact with you, right?_ "

"That would be smart…" Kaneki realized Tokage was still watching him, and he shot a glance back at the man. Tokage's scarred gaze narrowed, and he turned abruptly away. "Before you go, though, I need to ask you about some stuff. Can I meet you?"

" _Ugh…"_  Touka's groan was so loud and frustrated, Kaneki could practically hear her neck snapping back. " _Fine, whatever. I'm sitting outside the bus station in Nerima, at the bus stop. You better get here quick, though, because if the bus comes, I'm getting on it."_

"Noted," he said, smiling slightly. "I'll see you soon."

" _Fine._ "

As Kaneki hung up the phone, feeling content, he heard a spine tingling  _crack_  from somewhere behind him. When he turned around, he saw Tokage's retreating figure passing around the corner, his thumb still pressed to his index finger.

He didn't want to dwell on the strangeness of this encounter, but part of him felt like it was an inevitable bout of panic. Like he would slip away into an unsightly version of himself, where he said what he didn't mean, where he did wrong upon wrong for the sake of building up his own selfish illusion of strength.

Part of him wanted to snatch Tokage with his kagune and fling him into a wall.

He didn't. But he wanted to.

He texted Amon on his way out to tell him something urgent had come up and he had to leave. He also remembered to include the fact that he'd managed to get Nashiro and Kurona's files.

Amon did not answer right away, but Kaneki didn't really peg him as someone who checked their phone often.

He wasn't in the 20th ward. How was he going to get to Touka in time?

The traffic in Tokyo was endless. He'd have to take the subway.

He crammed himself into a small car with countless strangers, hooking his arm around a pole and leaning heavily against it. He had a missed message from Hide, which he decided to listen to while the car rushed steadily onward toward its destination.

" _Yo, buddy,_ " Hide chirped from the other line. " _I know you've got work stuff, but it'd be cool if you could swing by Anteiku tonight. Say, like, six? Ish?_   _Anyway, I gotta go, and I know you're busy, so I'll leave you alone. Buh-bye now!_ "

Kaneki snapped his phone shut. Well, he could probably make it to Anteiku earlier than six, depending on how this meeting with Touka went.

With every stop the subway took, Kaneki felt more and more anxious. Was Touka ready to do this? To throw her life away for a cause that she did not believe in?

Kaneki watched his reflection and the dark windows of the subway car, the outer walls of the underground tunnels speeding past in a blur. The lights were straining as they bounced through the windows and out into the cool, restless darkness.

When the car came to a stop at the 20th Ward, Kaneki slipped off. He gripped his stolen files tightly. What to do with them…

The sun was dipping low in the sky as he walked from the subway station to the bus station. It was a mild day, not too cold, with clouds bubbling up around the tips of the yawning skyscrapers. His steps were brisk and hurried, a testament to how eager he was to see Touka before she left. What if she got hurt? What if she was killed? Because of  _him_. What would he do if this was the result of his meddling?

"Touka!" Kaneki was slightly out of breath as he rounded the bus stop, his fingers squeaking against the translucent glass. She was sitting on a bench inside the bus stop, her feet kicked up, her sturdy looking combat boots resting on the metal seat. She was wearing multiple layers in spite of the mild temperature, and when Kaneki looked at her, he saw how disheveled she seemed to be.

Her hair, which was normally sleek and straight, was dull and mussed, flying in a few different directions. She'd tucked her bangs out of her one eye, though some still fell onto her forehead, curling around her nose. Kaneki suspected it was getting dirty, and she'd had no means to wash it. Her coat was heavy and fur trimmed, and she wore the joggers she'd worn when training with him, back when they had been closer, back when he'd known she'd cared.

"Huh." She glanced at him dully. She was half lying down, her back supported by a backpack. "Didn't think you'd actually make it before the bus. Why the hell is it running so late?"

"Traffic?" Kaneki offered. He exhaled sharply, pushing the folders beneath his arm and walking into the bus stop. He tentatively sat down by her feet. "I'm sorry. How long have you been waiting here?"

She cautiously sat up, her hair falling in uneven waves around her face. She stared ahead of her, her eyes tired and distant.

"Um… awhile," she admitted.

Kaneki sat in silence, taking that in. He tried to imagine Touka lying here from sunrise to sunset, her feet kicked up, her head cocked back, and her eyes watching the sun travel lazily from east to west. She did not want to leave.

Why was she doing this?

Touka had been here all day, watching buses pass her by. Never once getting on one.

"It's okay to be scared to leave home," Kaneki told her gently.

"I'm not scared," she snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm just— I don't know. Sad. Maybe…"

"That's okay too." Kaneki stared at her. She challenged his gaze, her eyes deep and intense, and he found it hard to gaze at them. Touka was stronger than he was.  _I wanted to protect her for so long_ , he thought,  _but I can't even look her in the eyes without feeling like the moon is falling out of the sky and crashing on top of me._

"Will this help?" she asked him sharply. "Am I doing any good at all?"

"I think you are," he told her gently. "But it's really all up to you. I… I can't help you once you're in there. You should get a throw away phone, and text me when and where you want to meet. Try not to get followed."

"Give me some credit," she muttered, glowering into her lap. "I can do this. That much I know for sure. I just don't see how it's gonna make a difference."

"Touka, just by complying, you're making a difference." Kaneki smiled at her, and she glanced at him sharply. "Trust me. You are going to change the world."

"That was never something I wanted," she whispered.

Kaneki found himself struck by a revelation.

Touka merely wanted to be safe and free and loved. She didn't care about changing things, so long as everyone around her was happy and comfortable. But here she was anyway, instigating the most abrupt, unbelievable change the CCG could possibly conceive.

A ghoul working on the front lines to provide information for the CCG.

It was something to marvel at.

"You're the bravest person I've ever met," he told her candidly. She jolted, her eyes moving swiftly to his face, searching it wildly. As though she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"That's bullshit," she sighed, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "I mean, thanks, but seriously. Bullshit."

"I'm serious," he said.

"I don't care, I'm calling bullshit." She shrugged. "Didn't you have stuff you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh. Right." Kaneki scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I know this is kind of last minute, but you didn't pack your Rabbit mask, right?"

Touka stiffened considerably. She cautiously pulled her backpack closer, slipping it into her lap. "How did you know I was Rabbit?" she asked him with an edge of suspicion in her tone.

"Did you really think I wouldn't figure out you were Rabbit, when all the CCG knows about you is that you care about the Daughter Ghoul?" Kaneki shook his head. Lying to Touka was always felt strange. Like he would never manage to actually convince her of anything.

She scoffed, pulling her knees up to her chest and glowering out into the sunlit street. The sun was closing over the tops of the skyscrapers, bathing the city in orange light and sweeping shadows.

"Okay," she said, "so what if I brought it?"

"You can't be Rabbit right now," Kaneki sighed, looking away from her face. He felt so bad. About everything. Like everything was about to go wrong, and it would be all his fault. "I'm sorry, but it's too risky. The CCG won't trust you if they find out you helped kill Mado."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Touka's eyes flashed dangerously. "That crazy old bastard? He  _had_  to die! He wouldn't leave Hinami alone otherwise!"

 _She's telling herself that,_  Kaneki realized, watching her watch the bleeding sunset,  _to make it hurt less._

Rationalizing why you kill people is both the hardest and the easiest part. It was easy because it was simple. If you tell yourself it was necessary enough times, you might start to believe it.

The hard part was the fact that deep down, you never truly believe it.

Even when it's true.

"I know that," Kaneki told her, leaning forward and peering into her eyes. "But the CCG doesn't. And they  _won't_  care if you thought it was necessary. No one can know you're Rabbit. Okay?"

Touka hugged her legs tighter, growling into her knees and closing her eyes. Kaneki wished he could possibly know what she was thinking, but all he knew right now was that he had hurt her with this blind quest for change. He always hurt her in ways he could not fathom. With actions. With subtle reactions. With words, and with silence.

By protecting her, he was isolating her.

Why was he such a fool?

How many times had they both broken their own hearts out of stubbornness? He had learned from Touka that with a strong will, possibilities came pouring in.

And then suddenly they were both too willful to care who they hurt or how. They just wanted what they wanted, and they'd do everything and nothing to prove it.

Touka exhaled sharply. She dropped her legs and tore open her backpack. Fiercely, she pulled out her rabbit mask, and she dropped her cellphone into it. The tiny rabbit keychain jingled as she handed the mask over to Kaneki. He took it uncertainly.

"I need a new mask," Touka declared, zipping up her bag and shrugging it onto her shoulders. She jumped to her feet and marched forward. "Let's go, Mr. Investigator. You're getting one too."

"Excuse me?" Kaneki asked, a surge of excitement blowing through him. Getting a mask had not even crossed his mind. His old eyepatch mask had been lost, like the friendships he'd made in the future-past, like events he knew could never happen now. But the mere idea of doing something so reckless, so purposefully rebellious against the CCG, made his whole body tingle. He put Touka's phone into his pocket, and he tucked the files into the rabbit mask, pushing them beneath his coat.

"I'm not doing this by myself," she snapped, stuffing her fists into her coat. "If I have to work for the opposing side, you have to represent."

"Okay," Kaneki said. She looked at him, her brow furrowing.

"Okay?" She wrinkled her nose. "That's it? You're not gonna fight me?"

"No, I think you have a point." Kaneki smiled at her warmly. "You shouldn't feel alone in this. I'll get a mask too, and support you as far as I possibly can. Okay?"

She looked startled, and maybe even a little scared. She began walking faster, and Kaneki struggled to catch up. The sun had sunk behind the skyscrapers, and now the streets were hazy and yellow, buzzing from the newly lit streetlamps, dizzy in the sudden dusk. The neon lights of store signs flickered into life above them, and Kaneki watched Touka's back, the faux fur of her hood rustling in the wind.

She walked so confidently, like she could take a step and pave a street of gold just by her sheer willpower.

He wanted to get closer to her, to remember what it felt like to be close to her, but even at this distance he felt like he was intruding. Like she'd hate him more if he tried to stand at her side, be her equal.

She was so lovely to behold, and all he could do was watch her like philosophers watched the night sky. She was a beautiful mystery, and he would never unlock her secrets no matter how long he looked, no matter how hard he thought, and he couldn't find it in himself to care, because he would keep looking on and on until her light fizzled out.

"So how'd you find out the location of this secret base, anyway?" Touka asked, turning her face toward him slowly. Her hair was like in splattered against the filmy white lights that had blazed into life around them. The wind grasped everything loose about her and shook it out.

"I…" Kaneki struggled to find a suitable lie. "I followed someone. Which is exactly what you should say you did, if you're asked."

She frowned, her eyes flickering toward him sharply. "What kind of trouble is this organization?" she muttered.

"The worst kind." Kaneki gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder, and she stared at him, nearly coming to a stop. She shook him off, and continued walking at her brisk pace. "Please be careful when you're there, Touka."

"You know I'm always careful." She sounded sarcastic. Her tone was biting and smooth, her smile thin and wispy on her lips. She sauntered on forward, her boots clipping the sidewalk, easing between the waves of people that congregated on street corners. He followed her obediently.

Hysy was exactly how he remembered it, in a little alcove at the end of a narrow alley. Streetlamps didn't reach it, but its own lanterns hung at the door, illuminating the end of the path to weary travelers, such as themselves. Touka looked bored as she pulled the door open and walked in.

"Uta," Touka called, not even bothering to look around before pushing through the store. "Help a girl out. I need a new mask."

Uta rolled out from a tattered black curtain that separated the shop from what Kaneki imagined was his studio. The chair continued to roll until Uta was only meters away from them, his eerie black eyes sliding toward them curiously.

"This is a pleasant surprise." Uta's voice was as soft and cool as ice cream, the sort of chill that struck you hard and fast, and melted gradually as the seconds ticked by. "You usually call before making your visits, Touka."

"What can I say?" She offered a shrug. "I'm in a hurry. Do you think I could commission a new mask?"

"Well, that's no problem," Uta said, stretching his long legs off the chair and leaning forward. "But might I ask what happened to your old one?"

"Inconvenience." She scratched the back of her head. "I got caught up with the doves, and I need to lie low for a while without falling off the grid completely. You know?"

"Mmm…" Uta tapped his chin, and he stood up. "Please take a seat. Introduce me to your friend."

Touka plopped down in the revolving chair, spinning idly in place. Her backpack was still strapped firmly to her back. "That's Kaneki Ken. He's a nobody."

"Doesn't look like a nobody to me."

Uta had already taken Touka's face in his hands, turning it side to side.

"Looks can be deceiving," she told him crisply, jerking her chin from his grasp.

"That's true," Uta agreed. "Even the most beautiful flower can be poisonous when touched. May I look at your eyes, Touka? They're so pretty."

"Go for it." She stared into Uta's perpetually black eyes, her gaze intense and yet, strangely distant.

"You seem lost," Uta said, walking over to his desk in the corner and retrieving his measuring tape. "Have you gone through a dramatic change lately?"

"Is that pertinent to my mask design?"

"Possibly." Uta's tape made quick lines across the sides of her face. "I forget how symmetrical your face is. You always cover it up. Tell me, when will Ayato come back? I miss making masks for him. He has such delicate features."

Touka stiffened. Kaneki watched her pick at her nails anxiously, her fingers wringing in her lap.

"I sincerely doubt Ayato will be coming back any time soon," she said softly.

"What a shame."

The thing about Uta was that he used the same soft, easy voice for every word he spoke. There was no telling if he was truly sad about anything. Kaneki believed him to be genuine, but it was difficult to tell.

"Yeah." Touka looked so tired. Her agreement was resigned.

"Tell me more about Kaneki." Uta spoke as if Kaneki were not standing a few feet away. "Are you two close friends?"

Touka scoffed, which Kaneki found deeply offensive. "Does it seem like we're close?"

"Well, he doesn't seem to be injured in any way I can see." Uta smiled. "So, by my assessment, you must like him quite a bit."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Uta wrapped the tape around her head. "Do you have a crush on anyone right now?"

"Are you done yet?" Touka countered, looking irritated. "Your questions are bordering on pointless again."

"Hmm, just about…" Uta cocked his head. "Won't you answer me, though? It's an easy question. Yes or no?"

"No." Touka ducked under the tape and rose to her feet. "Kaneki, you're up. Have fun."

"Ah." Uta's eyes widened excitedly as he turned to look at Kaneki. "I didn't realize. You're both getting masks, then? Please sit."

Kaneki shrugged off his white jacket, rolling it around the rabbit mask and the stolen files. He set it gingerly down on a case that showed off a distinctively demonic mask, bearing the number twelve on its mantle. He sat cautiously in the chair, folding his hands in his lap.

"Uta, right?" Kaneki felt strange asking this. He knew exactly who Uta was. Uta watched him, his red irises trailing slowly across Kaneki's face, like comets across the sky.

"That's me." Uta cupped his chin. "There's something about you. Why do you wear a dove's coat?"

Kaneki had to consider it. Did he tell Uta the truth? His better judgment warned him. It was a bad idea to admit to it. But there was just something so earnest about Uta's voice, about the way he took your face and asked you the most mundane questions, and then fashioned a mask out of a piece of your soul.

"I'm a ghoul investigator," he told Uta calmly. "I just happen to be a real dove, I guess."

"Oh really?" Uta sounded vaguely surprised. "That's strange. You didn't strike me as the type."

"He's a ghoul, Uta." Kaneki shot Touka a glare, and she shrugged at him. "What? He already knew. You give off a really distinct smell, you know."

"Really?" Kaneki shifted self-consciously as Uta ran his thumb over the tape. "That's weird to think about."

"How does a ghoul become a ghoul investigator?" Uta asked curiously.

"You fuck up," Kaneki admitted.

Uta's nimble fingers traced from Kaneki's temple to his chin with his index finger, which made him shudder. "They know you're a ghoul?"

"Yes."

"And you're still alive?"

"Shocking, I know."

"May I see your kagune?"

Kaneki blinked rapidly. He shot a glance at Touka, who just watched as he stood slowly, his shoulders tensing as the small of his back began to itch. There was always a tingling sensation when his kagune slid from his back, like pins and needles, but only in one particular section, like someone had carved out an oval from his back and made it a pin cushion.

The sleek red limbs of his kagune snaked around him, coiling in the air defensively. Uta was not focusing on the kagune, however. It was Kaneki's eyes that interested him.

"One eye," he observed, reaching over and measuring Kaneki's forehead. "That's interesting. Would you cover your right eye for me?"

Kaneki did as he was told, feeling Uta's gaze weld his fingers into an eyepatch. There was no way he was escaping that now. He could tell Uta was thinking about concealing Kaneki's identity. That was the only reason Kaneki could think of that would result in this situation.

"Are you dating anyone right now, Kaneki?"

"No." He felt the measuring tape go taut against his skin.

"Would the CCG be angry if you dated a ghoul?"

"Probably." Kaneki grimaced. "Most likely. I doubt they'd last long."

Uta hummed, and he moved back, dropping into his chair and rolling toward his desk. "That's all, then. I'll call you when your masks are done."

"Can I put a rush order on mine?" Touka was staring off into the corner, her eyelids heavy. "I need it soon."

"It'll cost you more." Uta's shoulders hunched, and he let his arms hang limply between his knees. He watched Touka for a long time, nearly a minute passing before his shoulders slumped. He must have pitied her. "I'll give you a special discount."

"Why?" Touka looked at him, startled and confused.

"I'll call it a muse discount." Uta smiled. "If you can, please get Ayato to stop by. I'll give you a free mask."

"That's weird. But sure, if I can convince Ayato of anything I'd be a much happier person." Touka smiled back at Uta dimly. He was chewing on what appeared to be a translucent gummy worm.

 _That's not a gummy worm_ , Kaneki thought. He couldn't find it in himself to be sickened.

"No rush for me," Kaneki laughed as Uta's eyes moved toward him. "I'm just here for Touka."

"Really?" Uta's voice was slightly muffled by his chewing. "You didn't mention that before."

"It wasn't important," Touka sighed, rolling her eyes. She snatched Kaneki by the sleeve. "We better go. Send Kaneki the bill, okay?"

He wanted to chastise her for throwing the bill at him, but he knew he couldn't. He'd made her do this. It was only right that he paid for it all.

They walked through the darkened streets in silence. The back roads were always so quiet and dark, eerie passages that felt desolate in comparison to the vibrant neon lights and the incessant trills of the main roads. But even the dark, lonesome corners of Tokyo had life to them.

"It feels so strange," Touka said, bright blue lights flashing upon her face, reflecting in her eyes and leaving traces of words upon her irises. "I don't feel like I'm going anywhere."

"It's not forever," Kaneki told her. "You'll be back soon."

"Yeah," she murmured, pushing a stray curl out of her eyes and glowering at her feet. "Yeah, of course. I'll be back in no time."

"I told you that you won't be alone," Kaneki said, staring into her eyes, "and I meant it. I want you to call me if there's any trouble at all."

"There's gonna be trouble no matter if it's about me or not." She looked so defeated. He felt like a monster for doing this to her. "My brother… he's part of the Aogiri Tree. If I didn't do this, do you know what would happen to him?"

"He could survive an attack by the CCG," Kaneki said, hugging his coat to his chest. It was chilly now, but he didn't want to put it on just yet. "But a spy would provide certain intel which would make his chances less desirable."

Touka exhaled shakily. "No choice, then." She smiled vacantly. "No turning back either."

Kaneki studied her face. "I guess not," he whispered.

He didn't want her to go.

Even as he watched her walk into the bus stop, he didn't want to see her go. He wanted to cling to her jacket. He wanted to hug her and beg her to stay.

This was all his fault.

He'd pushed her into this.

_How many times can I ruin your life before you hate me forever?_

It was a question he could never ask, and she could never answer.

She turned around slowly. If there were tears in her eyes, it was too dark to see them.

"Bye, then," she said quietly.

"Goodbye…" Kaneki stood, feeling that the bus stop had separated them, as if Touka had passed through a doorway into another dimension, and he could no longer reach her.

 _I'm going to miss you_ , and  _I wish I'd chosen to stay with you the first time, when you'd wanted me to be with you, when things were simple and I knew you cared about me,_  were not things he could say to her. He had a thousand things bottled up inside him, and he wanted to shout them all. Touka made him feel like he could bleed sonnets, but when it came down to it, he just swallowed down the blood and let it make him sick.

"Take care of Hinami," Touka said, gripping the straps of her backpack, "okay?"

Kaneki smiled at her. "Of course," he told her gently. He took a step back. He didn't want to. "Come back safe. Okay?"

"Stop worrying about me." Touka smirked. "I'm good. I'll be fine."

"I trust you."

"And I'm trusting you," Touka said, her eyes narrowing. "Don't forget, the CCG is going to owe me big time. Make sure this doesn't fall through, Kaneki."

"I'd rather die," he said earnestly.

"Okay, that's too much," Touka laughed. Kaneki smiled, despite the fact that he'd been a hundred percent serious. "Be careful. The doves are terrible, and they've already threatened you a whole lot. I don't want you getting hurt."

It warmed his heart.

Knowing that she cared made his whole body warm, and a dumb smile creep upon his face.

"I'll be fine," he echoed her.

"Good."

And that was that.

Kaneki walked away. Touka stayed standing.

He watched the bus come from about a block away. Touka boarded. And then she disappeared.

Why did he feel like this would be forever?

Forever and ever stuck between them. They were stuck on different planes of existence.

Kaneki didn't want to check his phone. He didn't care what time it was. He needed a cup of coffee. He didn't want to see what Amon had replied to him with, and he didn't want to know how late he was to meet Hide. All he wanted was to stand next to Touka again, and watch neon lights pass over her eyes like they were deep blue mirrors, like they were a frozen ocean, with a surface so calm that light reflected off it and shattered.

He pushed open the door to Anteiku, feeling sluggish and drained. He wanted to lie down, but he didn't want to disappoint Hide.

The bell rang, a shrill introduction that did not get him far. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking around as the coffee sent his brain buzzing, nostalgia clawing at his brain and causing him to feel mildly dizzy.

"Hi, Koma." Kaneki wandered up to the counter. His old friend looked at him curiously. "Have you seen Hide?"

Koma scoffed. "Have I seen Hide?" he mocked. "Well—!"

"Hey, Kaneki!" Hide's voice filled up the entire room with its volume. "Check this out!"

Kaneki followed the voice, and when the voice stopped, it came from the entrance to the kitchen. Hide was standing there. Smiling goofily. He wore a white shirt. A black vest. An apron.

And Kaneki nearly cried out in utter shock.

"Holy shit." Kaneki's hand flew to his mouth. Hide just… grinned.

"Tada!" Hide flung out his arms. "Welcome to Anteiku!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noctiluca, noctilucae.  
> moon (she who shines by night).


	16. pudor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some referencing to misgendering.
> 
> um, in other news, i have finals this week!! so i won't be working on a new chap until that's done with. as for everything else?? i hope shirazu ginshi knows i love him. that's basically it.

"What…?" Kaneki found himself fumbling with a stool, dropping into it and blinking wildly. He felt like he'd been hit in the face with a hammer. Disoriented, he held the counter, fumbling for the right words to attach to this situation. But he found none. So he sat and stared as Hide stepped behind the counter, laying his hands flat against the surface and winked.

"Surprised?" Hide's grin was tight and wicked, like a viper after biting its prey. "Thought you might be."

"Hide…" Kaneki dropped his bundled coat, filled with some highly incriminating items, onto the counter, and he dragged his hands down his face. "Okay. What the fuck?"

"What?" Hide pouted, his shoulders stiffening up, rising to his ears. "Like it's so shocking, seeing me in a work environment? You're so cruel, Kaneki."

"No," Kaneki gasped, letting his hands fall into his lap. "Hide! That's not what I meant! I mean what are you doing like… as in, why are you working at Anteiku?"

"Because there was a position available, and I need cash?" Hide's smile became lazy and smooth, an easy look that fit his face far more than the sly grin he'd held before. "We all gotta live, dude."

"But… at Anteiku?" Kaneki asked weakly.

"The Manager gave his okay," Koma piped up, glancing over Hide's shoulder at Kaneki. "Apparently Touka's gonna be gone for awhile, so we're short-handed. Plus, Hide's really good with customers. If really bad at making coffee."

"Oi, Koma!" Hide pouted. "It's my first day! Give me a break, will you?"

"I dunno, kid," Koma chuckled. "I don't think I've ever tasted a worse cup of coffee, which is saying a whole lot."

"I'm  _learning_!" Hide huffed, folding his arms across his chest and scowling. "Hello? First day? Jeez."

"I don't really know what to say," Kaneki admitted truthfully. He really didn't. This all seemed like way too much.

"Maybe start by congratulating me?" Hide's smile was sparse and thin. "This is my first big boy job, you know. It's actually a step up from delivery boy, which had been the initial plan."

"Your ambitions are truly scaled to nations," Kaneki said dryly. He smiled at Hide wanly. "You're face isn't quite as welcoming as Touka's, but I guess it'll do. Can you give me a regular coffee?"

"I'd be offended," Hide sighed loftily, "if it were anyone but Touka. But not even I can deny her charm."

"That girl has all the charm of a deer shedding its antlers," Koma piped up.

Both Kaneki and Hide glanced at him. Kaneki resisted the urge to laugh, but Hide had feigned a look of utmost severity, so Kaneki had to keep solemn for dramatic effect.

"If by that you mean cryptically majestic, then I agree."

"Just be glad she isn't here to hear you call her majestic," Kaneki joked. "You'd have a mouthful of your own teeth."

"You think?" Hide blinked innocently. "But Touka's really coming around to me!"

"That's doubtful," Koma said.

Hide pouted. He didn't seem discouraged so much as downtrodden. Perhaps he was disappointed at their lack of faith in him.

In the stillness that came after, while Koma attempted to show Hide the correct way to brew coffee, Kaneki was overwhelmed by the idea that this was real. He and Touka, who had seemed to be innately tied to this place, no longer belonged here. It was Hide who had taken their place. It was Hide who carried on their legacies.

Kaneki felt like he should feel happier about this development.

But envy was a hollowing emotion that ate up all the space in his heart without the generosity of filling it up again.

He and Touka had gone in their separate directions, and it felt even more unbearable this time.

Because she had left him, and he did not have her resolve to wait for a sign that she was still out there, that she would still care enough to return.

Kaneki had so admired—  _emulated_  Touka's strength, but when it came down to it, he could do nothing in the face of her faith. He could not even dare to mimic something so pure, so grounded, so true.

He didn't think he believed in anything, and maybe that was his whole goddamn problem.

Another customer came in as Koma tried to assist Hide, which caused him to curse under his breath. "Do you think you can do this by yourself?" he asked Hide, holding a jar of coffee grounds out to Hide. Hide took it gladly, and he beamed up at him.

"No sweat," he gasped.

Koma didn't look convinced, but he had to compartmentalize. Kaneki remembered the feeling pretty well. Budgeting time was an art form when you were on the clock.

Hide sort of fumbled with the coffee maker, looking a little quizzical as he peered over the top of it into the filter. He lifted up his kettle of water, drawing it close and lifting it above the pour over maker. Kaneki winced as he tilted the kettle over suddenly, keeping it at a ninety degree angle and letting the steaming water flow directly downward.

"Hide…" Kaneki couldn't help it. He jumped off his stool and rounded the counter. "Stop. What are you doing?"

Hide looked up at him in slight awe. He looked back down at the water gathering inside the filter, wetting only a small cylindrical section of the grounds. That particular section looked like a patch of mud amidst a dry forest floor.

"Uh…" Hide smiled sheepishly. "I'm doing it wrong again, huh?"

"You have steady hands," Kaneki sighed, "but no patience. Just…" He glanced at the kettle. The smell of the coffee was making his mouth water, and his brain was having a frenzy over the mere thought of holding it. Like maybe he could turn back time, and this world would make sense again.

Hide offered the kettle to him.

Kaneki's fingers twitched. He wanted to reach toward it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he withdrew his hands. He took a large step back as he tried to regain his sense of direction. He felt displaced.

One of them did not belong here.

It was taking too long for Kaneki to realize it was him.

"Just go slow," Kaneki urged, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Stop trying to rush the process. You need to wet all the grounds, and not just pour into one section."

"Should I do that swirly thing with my wrist that Yoshimura did?" Hide bobbed the kettle around, and Kaneki could hear the water swishing within it, which made him nervous.

"Yes," Kaneki said, "do exactly that. Also, hold on a minute." He flipped his phone open and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

" _Kaneki,_ " Amon sighed. " _It's been hours. Where did you run off to?_ "

"A-ah!" Kaneki stepped back, scratching his head and laughing nervously. "Amon! I'm… I'm just—!"

"Hanging with me," Hide said, smiling encouragingly. Kaneki's mouth was left open, unsure how to respond as Amon  _tsk_ ed sharply from the other line. "Go on. It's the truth. Just tell him we never see each other anymore. Tell him."

"I'm… with Hide. Sorry, I lost track of time. Um…" Kaneki pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. I can meet you somewhere."

" _Why don't I come to you_?" Amon didn't sound insistent, which convinced Kaneki that he could somehow change the man's mind, but he also did not want to rouse suspicion. Kaneki's heart was beating a symphony into his ribcage. " _I'd like to discuss the files missing from the Junior Academy. You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, would you?_ "

"Me?" Kaneki's nervous laugh bubbled up in his mouth and spilled out like a sink overflowing. "Steal classified files? Doesn't  _sound_  like my MO."

"Holy shit," Koma whistled from across the counter as Kaneki plopped back down into his seat. Kaneki saw Hide's eyebrows raise, a proud little smirk on his lips.

" _This isn't very funny, Kaneki._ "

"You sound like you're smiling." Kaneki felt satisfied by that. He could at least admit he and Amon could share some sense of humor. "How much trouble am I in?"

" _Depends_ ," Amon said, " _on what you found. I know Nashiro and Kurona didn't graduate, but no other information was disclosed, and their digital files have been completely erased. I have a feeling you're getting an eerie vibe from this._ "

"An eerie vibe from two girls disappearing off the face of the earth with no explanation or fuss?" Kaneki didn't want to sound bitter, but he did. He was so goddamn bitter. Shiro and Kuro, as fucked up as they'd been, did not deserve this life. "Of course not."

" _If you're at your apartment, I can swing by. I have a strange feeling about this, and I'd like to follow my intuition. You should do the same, if you suspect something is off._ "

"Oh boy, do I…" Kaneki grimaced. "Um, yeah. I can meet you at my apartment."

" _I can pick you up if you aren't there, you know_."

Kaneki pressed his lips together thinly.

Fuck.

He was not going to get out of this.

"Sure…" Kaneki tried to sound positive. It had failed. "I'm… at a coffee shop called Anteiku. Um…"

" _I can find it. I'll be right there._ "

Amon hung up, and Kaneki was filled with cold, ruthless dread.

"Fuck." He snatched his coat from the counter, unraveling it to get at the files he'd hidden. Touka's rabbit mask came spilling out instead, colliding against the tile and bouncing away.

Kaneki froze, his muscles locking as it rolled to a stop, teetering like a frisbee against the ground. Her phone had fallen beside it, its tiny rabbit charm lying defeated upon its side.

When Koma met his eye, he knew they both had the same gut-wrenching reaction.

No one could know that Touka was Rabbit.

"Give it to me," Koma commanded briskly, tossing his kettle aside and untying his apron. "Let's go. Hide, watch the front."

"Aye-aye," Hide sang, though his eyes told a different story, quick and beseeching, soaking up the shifted energy in this room like a sponge.

All the customers in the shop must've been ghouls, because Kaneki couldn't imagine anything more suspicious than Koma's somber face. Kaneki tucked Touka's phone into his pocket and picked up her mask, handing it over cautiously. Koma snatched it from his fingers.

"This'll have to go," he muttered, starting towards the back room.

Kaneki considered his words. He glanced toward the door. And then he staggered after Koma.

"Wait!" he gasped, catching him by the arm in the backroom. Koma turned to glance at him. There was sadness in his eyes. His brow had softened, and his jaw had hardened. Kaneki released him, taking a meager step back.

Koma took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Do you know," he breathed, "what you've done to her?"

He clutched the rabbit mask in both his hands.

Kaneki's throat constricted.

Did he know?

 _Did he know_?

What kind of fucking question was that?

"What… do you want me to say?" Kaneki took another step back, this time in defense. He felt like he was being cornered, like Koma had been itching to get him alone. The man didn't seem angry, which was a godsend, but he did seem to harbor some heavy resentments. And Kaneki couldn't even blame him.

Because who else was at fault but Kaneki Ken?

When Touka's life went to hell, it would always be a sin of his own doing.

"I want you to tell me why." Koma held up Touka's mask, and he shook it fiercely in his fist. His expression had crumpled like the falling walls of Jericho. "She can't come back from this. You know she won't come back from this, and you let her go anyway."

It sounded like an accusation and felt like an execution.

"That's true," he whispered.

"Why?" Koma exhaled, and he smiled vacantly. "Please. Give me this, okay? I need to know why you thought she was expendable."

"She's not," Kaneki gasped.

"Then why did you let her do it?"

"Because she's  _Touka_!" Kaneki thought he might cry if this continued. He didn't want this. He didn't want to act like Touka had been sentenced to die in a prison somewhere far away. She was free, for now, and that mattered. She was fine right now. That mattered. "She made up her mind, and I wasn't about to fight her on something she was adamant about! I'm not stupid, I know she'd bite my head off. I didn't try because I didn't want to hurt her any more than she's already been hurt."

"You got her into this mess in the first place." Koma's brow furrowed. "Is this plan of yours even worth it?"

"I believe it is," he replied, wanting to sound resolute and instead sounding reedy. Desperate.

"Your word might not be good enough to get that girl back alive." Koma shoved Touka's mask against Kaneki's chest. "And if it isn't… if she dies because of your incompetence… man, you'll be answering to the Devil Ape."

Kaneki wanted to smile, but this was not the familiar comedic gloat he expected from Koma. No, this was a real threat, the kind that did not settle in right away, and instead ate at you little by little until you were treading around basic actions trying to puzzle out when and where and how the threat would destroy you.

He cupped the mask in his hands, the cool surface of the mask numbing his fingers. It was Touka's identity he held in his hands.

What was he supposed to do with it?

Throw it away? Destroy it?

He hugged it closer to his chest, wishing that he had more time.

"Give Touka some credit," Kaneki said softly, setting the mask on the counter beside the sink. "If she's anything at all, then I know she's strong. If she can't do this, then no one can."

Koma's expression, which had already been softened by his grief, could only melt. He looked hung, like he was being pulled apart in ten different directions, and his brain could not keep up with the pace his heart was setting.

"You care about her." Koma's eyes seemed to widen. He gave a shaky, disbelieving laugh. "Ah, damn, did I misread you, kid."

"It happens," Kaneki admitted. "I guess I'm not what anyone expects of me. I don't know if that's a good thing."

"It might not be." Koma eyed him as though he was coming to the realization that Kaneki was still fairly young. "I get you're taking a big risk for our sake, Kaneki, but you've gotta understand. You expect the whole world to change just because you  _exist_. And it really isn't that simple."

Kaneki didn't want to hear these words. He didn't want to hear the truth.

"I never assumed it would be," he replied, smiling faintly. He let his fingers linger on Touka's mask, even as he took a step back. "Please take care of Touka's mask. When she comes back, she might want it again."

And with that, he turned away. He could walk away from Anteiku— he'd done it before. He'd do it again. He felt like everyone around him underestimated his ability to shed his responsibilities and feelings like dogs shed their fur.

He could easily run away again.

Don't tempt him.

He was feeling too much, and it was overwhelming. He just needed to lessen the load. Dig his fingers into his chest, dig around through the muscle, hook them around his ribcage and pry it all open. The bad stuff would flow out, the fear, the anxiety, the insecurities, the whispers in his brain that told him who he was and how he was and why he was and how all that was all so wrong. It would just pour out of him. And then he would feel so much better.

Right?

Don't tempt him.

He was forgetting what it felt like to be in control.

Amon was sitting at the counter when Kaneki came out of the kitchen, much to his dismay. Hide was chatting to him amiably, like Hide tended to, and Amon was nodding while flipping through a file. Kaneki couldn't tell whose file it was, but it made him nervous. Everything about this scene made him nervous.

Amon raised his head.

"Ah," he said. "There you are. What were you doing in the back?"

"I spilled sugar all over Kaneki," Hide admitted sheepishly. "He was just cleaning himself up in the back."

Amon chuckled, buying the lie as anyone would. Hide's face was too genuine to suspect. "The first day at any job can be disconcerting," he reassured Hide gently. "Don't worry too much about it."

"Who said it was an accident?" Hide shot Kaneki a mischievous smirk, and he winked. "Anyhow, Kaneki deserved it."

"Uh…" He sighed. "How… exactly…?"

"I dunno, man, when don't you deserve it?"

"You're… the worst," Kaneki murmured, closing his eyes. "The actual worst."

"You love me!" Hide sang. "Also, pay for your coffee before you skedaddle. Here, I even put it in a to-go cup. Because I care."

Kaneki opened his eyes, and he scowled at the cup that had been pushed into his face. He snatched it from Hide's fingers roughly. "Could have fooled me," he said.

Hide stuck his tongue out playfully. Amon simply stared between them, an amused expression crossing his face.

"Anyway," Amon said, straining his voice so Kaneki knew he was trying to get them all back on track, "I'm having trouble grasping exactly what is happening with the Yasuhisas. Kaneki, what made you take these files?"

He didn't want to admit his theory, that the Yasuhisa twins had been coerced by Kanou into becoming half ghouls. That was way too suspicious. He had to instigate this naturally.

"I thought it was strange," Kaneki said distantly, "that those two girls, who you said were… what? Dedicated to becoming investigators? That they just  _vanished_ , with no warning, no explanation— and nobody is asking any questions about it."

Amon nodded, humming softly in agreement as he looked back down at the file. "We're on the same page, then," he said, his strong brows knitting together. "I've got a bad feeling about this. The only trouble is, I doubt ghouls are responsible."

Kaneki froze, trying to process his words. He gripped his coffee cup gingerly, and he smiled. "Why do you say that?"

Amon looked at him. He sighed, and he laid out the file on the counter. Kaneki noticed how all the other customers, who he'd previous pegged as ghouls, sort of eyed them distrustfully from their various seats. If their eyes lingered for too long, Amon would notice.

He had to get him out of here.

"Well, to put it simply…" Amon frowned deeply. "If Nashiro and Kurona had encountered ghouls, resulting in their deaths or kidnapping, the CCG would frankly exploit the hell out of it."

"Ha!" Kaneki couldn't help but choke out, much to Amon's alarm. He tried to cover it up, but he couldn't help feeling smug. "Isn't that the truth? I'm glad you're not totally deluded."

Amon's eyes were quick and vicious. He stared Kaneki down with the heat of the pits of hell. "I know what you must think of me," he said sharply, "but believe it or not, I'm capable independent thought."

"Then maybe you should act like it," Kaneki stated coolly. Even as he spoke it, he felt the chill of dread that signified he would regret it.

The look Amon shot him could only be described as scathing.

Hide whistled lowly, drumming his fingers against the counter top.

It hardly mattered what else Kaneki wanted to say. Amon's anger did not quite reach fever pitch, but he was clearly irritated, and gathered up the files briskly as he rose to his feet. He then paused, peering over one, and glancing at Kaneki sharply.

"I thought the Director had Mutsuki's only file," he said. His tone was accusatory.

Kaneki glanced at it, and he shrugged. "Apparently not. Look, I'm sorry. Let's just go, okay?"

Amon looked unconvinced, but he nodded. Kaneki dug into his pocket and dropped a few bills onto the counter. Hide looked puzzled.

"That's too much," he said confusedly.

"Tips, Hide," Kaneki reminded, shrugging on his coat as he walked toward the door.

"That's  _still_ too much!" Hide sounded vaguely distressed, which was new. "Hey! Kaneki, take some of this back!"

He followed Amon out the door, clutching his coffee and wondering how badly he'd fucked up this time.

The coffee wasn't nearly as bad as Koma had made it out to be, but it was still pretty shitty. He sipped at it anyway as he sat down in Amon's car, looking away nervously. He didn't want to seem nervous. He didn't want his expression to reflect the turmoil within him.

It was quiet in the car for a minute or so, an awkward silence that blanketed them, stifled them, let the world become nothing but bated breaths and smeared headlights that ceaselessly roved past.

"What is it about me," Amon asked sharply, suddenly, sullenly, "that makes you so ready to judge?"

"Um, I don't know," Kaneki murmured. "Maybe your inability to process that ghouls are people too?"

"I'm trying, you know." Amon exhaled sharply, glowering out into the dark street. "I don't want to make you angry, but, frankly, your opinions are illogical and radical, and I can't… really accept them."

"Maybe," Kaneki offered, "you just won't let yourself."

Amon glanced at him. He shook his head fiercely.

"I can't just change my beliefs to please you," he sighed. "You are the only ghoul to ever give me any reason to doubt. And you alone are not good enough."

"Then stop lashing out every time you see a ghoul and  _listen_." Kaneki sunk into his seat, thumbing his cup anxiously. "Also… thanks."

Amon glanced at him. "For what?"

"For admitting I'm a ghoul." Kaneki cracked a smile, and Amon rolled his eyes. "What? Come on, you hate saying it, I know you do."

"Yeah, well, you're very insistent." Amon drummed his fingers against the steering wheel before turning the car on. "Kaneki, about the Yasuhisas…"

He leaned forward, staring at Amon intently. Shiro and Kuro needed to be top priority right now. If he could… by some miracle… just save them from themselves, from Kanou's influence… then he would consider much of this trial to be worth it.

"We need to decide now if we want to pursue this." The car began to accelerate, and Kaneki considered his words carefully. "Investigators are usually given freedom to pursue leads they think may become something big, but I think we can both agree that whatever this is, it probably was not the fault of ghouls. So decide now. Do you want to continue to pursue this?"

Kaneki didn't even need to think about it.

"Let's find them," he said firmly. "Show them that at least  _someone_  in the CCG cares that they're missing."

Amon smiled. He nodded firmly.

"Okay," he said. "I have an idea of where to start."

* * *

Once upon a time, running away had been harder.

It had been the urgency of strangers crashing through her door, the feeling of Ayato's soft, tiny fingers crushed beneath hers, the abrupt tearing sensation of her kagune ripping open her back and deciding that her body was not solely her own. Not yet. It was the beating of her heart in the hollow of her ears, the ballad of her breaths hitting the cool night air, the weight of her little brother trudging her steps. It was the aching feeling that erupted in her stomach, the sensation of a claw slicing through her navel and scooping her belly out, leaving her with nothing but an empty, empty, emptiness that could not be filled.

Once upon a time, running away had been easier.

Empty bellies led to empty hearts, and they grew tired of one place far too quickly. So they gathered up their seven belongings, stuffed them in a bag that they shared, and went off to terrorize another part of the city. Drifting made it easy to live on fumes, to live day after day with enough detachments to make it alarming that they had never floated off this world and dissipated completely. Waifs created their own rules, decided their own fates, and had no home but the company they shared. Running away from a busted old, boarded up building on the edge of the city that would be demolished was hardly a difficult task. They'd burn down the places they'd stay in if it meant they could run faster.

But now, running was a whole lot harder.

Now she had nothing to run from but the thing she was running towards.

And she fucking hated it.

She bought a throw away phone like Kaneki had told her.

She didn't like that she was putting so much faith in some shady ass bastard half-breed snot.

Like no fucking thanks.

Her doubts were swimming in her brain like water snakes, flitting in and out and frightening her to no end.

She rode a bus, and then a few different trains, and then found herself treading through the woods. All in all, a very exciting trip, with the usual band of riff raff trying to get a piece of her. Like, why did other ghouls try so goddamn hard to fight her? Didn't they know she didn't have the goddamn time or patience to deal with their bullshit?

She saw the building from a vantage point in the woods. She decided to camp out until dawn, scaling a tree and lounging in the branches, flicking spiders off leaves and watching the moon through the canopy of foliage above her. She wanted to sleep. Her eyes were itching, her vision bleary, and she knew she could attribute that to spending multiple nights camping out in public transits. Curled up on a bus stop bench, upright with her head pressed to a darkened window, and now under the stars, inhaling the crisp November air and feeling the solemnity of nature coil itself around her.

If she thought too much, would she try to turn back?

Had she already crossed the point of no return here?

The sun cracked the sky open, sending a milky tide through the horizon line, smearing out the stars and washing out the blackness. Her body was stiff, immobile, achy, and her eyes felt heavy, like someone had smeared sparkles under her eyelids, and those sparkles were made of lead.

She shimmied out of the tree, her muscles rigid, and she dropped down into the dead leaves, listening to her boots crush them with some vague satisfaction. The forest was still dark, though light did seem to pass through the branches in slivers, breathing a grayish tint into the frigid air. She readjusted her backpack, and began to walk forward towards the abandoned building. Kaneki had advised her to be quick, obedient, and impressive.

Seemed easy enough. The obedience thing could be worked with. Probably.

When she neared the building, she became distinctly aware of another presence in the woods. She continued walking, her pace even, her strides long, but she tuned herself into her surroundings, listening carefully. There were probably two of them. Possibly more, given her limited range.

She came into the clearing that looked over the abandoned building, and she cocked her head. What a simple base of operations.

Before she could drop down, she heard the whistling of a leg rushing through the air behind her. So she very promptly ducked away, feeling the gust of air breeze above her, and she whirled around, catching the leg with her nails biting into the calf and jerking the body up so their other foot slid off the ground. She tossed them aside, watching them crumple into a pool of red fabric.

Another one came sailing toward her, and she took a step back, dropping from the overlook and kicking steadily off the incline to keep her momentum. She touched down easily on her feet, peering up at the cloaked figures. They were watching her from above.

And then they both dove at her.

She skidded back, dodging their simultaneous attacks breezily, feeling that they must know each other very well, because they were consistently divvying up their chances to attack, never giving her a second to breathe or retaliate. Her feet were gliding easily, her stance level and her body tense. If they couldn't land a hit on her with both of them attacking at once, then she could probably take them.

They weren't giving her much emotion while throwing themselves at her. Their hearts were not in this fight. They made mechanical shots, easy maneuvers that were smart, but weak. She easily backpedaled and dodged, skidding sideways and jumping up, blocking and flipping back. She was just waiting for the right opening, waiting for the right moment to strike back.

She found it as they regrouped, and decidedly split once more. They came at her from both sides.

Idiots.

She shot forward with a burst of speed seconds before they both attacked, causing them to crash into each other. She pivoted and kicked one in the face, causing them to crash onto their back. The other bounced on their hands and landed on their feet, albeit shakily. Touka stomped on the stomach of the one on the ground, and they yelped.

"Is that the best you got?" She let her boot sit on top of the chest of the one she'd grounded. She felt something slither around her ankle, and she swore softly as she was yanked off her feet and tossed into the air. The moment she was airborne, the other fighter was flying towards her, bikaku glistening in the eerie mist of dawn.

She flipped in midair, shifting her weight so they sailed past her. She skidded on her feet, and promptly retaliated, her leg shooting up and smashing into their stomach. They caught her by the hair, and she elbowed them in the throat. Their bikaku was inches from her jugular, and she blocked it with her own kagune, which tore through her back like blood crystalizing in the timid sunlight.

This one was down for the count. She knew it by the seven shards that had pierced through their arm and upper torso. She focused on the other one, who had gotten up and was watching her staidly. She threw out her arms.

"Let's go!" She gestured toward her. "C'mon! I'm not fucking around now. If you wanna fight, I'll give you a goddamn fight!"

The ghoul peered at her.

"What?" she snapped, her kagune illuminating her face. She knew she looked demonic. She bathed in it. This was her fucking element. She was positively  _glowing_  in all her furor, all her disgust. These guys were puny. "Are you scared of me? Tough fucking luck. You started this fight, and you're gonna end it!"

They held up their hands.

"I yield," he said loudly. "Kirishima."

She froze for a moment after hearing her name, trying to figure out why the hell this guy knew it.

And then she was tackled.

"Fuck," she exhaled into the dirt, her kagune guttering out. The other ghoul pinned her down, pressing her face into the scratchy leaves. When she inhaled, she got a mouthful of decay.

"You think they're related?" the other ghoul asked, lifting her up and clamping her hands behind her back.

"Look at her." In the paleness of dawn, the other ghoul's mask was revealed to her. He had blocky looking P on an otherwise plain white surface. "An angry face like that? Hard to replicate."

"Hm." She gritted her teeth as he took her face and turned it toward him. She decidedly elbowed him, feeling one of the shards from her kagune burrow deeper into his side. He hissed, and threw her to the ground. "Bitch!"

"Touch me again and you'll get one of those through your  _dick_ , asshole!" Touka jumped to her feet, dusting herself off. "Who the hell are you?"

"We're asking the questions here." The other ghoul was circling her. She felt self-conscious. "You're a Kirishima. I can tell that much."

"She definitely has the temperament…" the other ghoul muttered. "Bro, what should we do with her?"

"I'm not dealing with that bratty half-pint's tantrum," the ghoul with the P mask snorted. "We can't kill her, that's for sure."

"No fun…" The other ghoul, who had a large X on his mask, plucked the shards from his chest.

"Plus," P Ghoul sighed, "she's pretty powerful. Aren't you, Kirishima?"

He called her  _Kirishima-chan_.

What the fuck, she was gonna riot.

"Do you like your face?" She looked at him, rolling her shoulders. "Because if you even  _slightly_  appreciate the current dynamic of your features, you should choose your words more carefully."

"Oh my god, make it stop," the X one groaned. "One Kirishima was bad enough!"

"Quiet. No matter how shitty their personalities are, they're both clearly talented fighters." The P ghoul folded his arms across his chest. "We should bring her back to Tatara. See what he thinks of her."

"Really…?" The X one sighed. "Okay. I'll trust your instincts on this one."

"Hi. Still here." Touka waved sharply. "Who's this Tatara asshole?"

"Oh, bro," X whispered. "He's not gonna like her."

"She'll learn to keep her mouth shut." P stepped in front of her, and he offered out a hand. "We're the Bin Brothers. By the look of you, you're Kirishima's sister. He's a colleague of ours."

"That's one way to put it," X sighed.

"You should join us." P's hand flexed. "And count yourself lucky it was us who found you out here, and not Yamori."

She knew this was probably exactly what she wanted, but she couldn't help being a total douchebag about it. "Join you with what, exactly?" She hooked her thumbs beneath her backpack straps and rolled her eyes. "You guys are shady as hell. Whatever, you said you knew my brother?"

"He should be back by now." P continued to hold out his hand. "Come on. You're here because you heard about Aogiri, aren't you? Well take my advice and take my hand. You have a lot of potential, Kirishima. You might as well showcase it."

Touka felt the urge to smack his hand away, to turn on her heel and march off. But she didn't. She eyed it uncertainly, and she reached out, tentatively grasping her hand. He then dragged her forward. She didn't think this was the right path, but she had to take it anyway. She was already too far gone.

Firstly, she did not like this motherfucker holding her hand. He could lead her without touching her, couldn't he? Also, she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. Getting into the building would be less awkward than she initially thought because she had these guys with her, but she was still kind of at a loss.

The building was even more dilapidated inside than it was outside. The entrance was a heavily graffitied steel enforced door, the kind that was reminiscent of old factories. Upon entering, the scent of decaying, fossilizing wood hung in the air. Rot was evident in the way light peeked through the skeletons of walls, bare-boned ribbing of the musty interior. There was sheetrock and debris scattered across the floor, like a patchwork blanket of artificial snow. It crunched beneath their feet.

She'd yanked her hand from the P bastard immediately upon crossing the threshold, wiping it on her joggers and glowering at him. The fact that he'd had it for as long as he had made her want to rip his head off and play soccer with it.

"Did you come to Aogiri intentionally?" P asked her.

She wondered if she should lie, considering her options and what was suspicious versus what would be impressive. That was what Kaneki had told her.

What should she say?

"Kinda…" She frowned, wondering how shitty this explanation was going to be. "I guess I'm just a little lost right now. I figured this might be a good place to…" Her eyes whisked around the crumbling corridor, trailing across the cracked ceiling and split doorframes. "Find myself."

It was as good a lie as any.

The brothers did not respond, but she assumed her explanation sufficed. When ghouls moved from place to place, it was difficult to suspect much. Everyone knew what it was like. What it felt like to be uprooted and alone.

They passed by a few open rooms, and Touka spotted piles of sleeping bodies curled up on the busted floors. A chill ran through her, and she had to wonder what type of place she'd entered. It felt like a prison here— no, not even just simply a prison.

Like a labor camp.

She quickened her pace, leaving the brothers in the dust. She turned a corner, and found herself nearly running into a very large, very unnerving man who looked down his broad nose at her and smirked. Instinctually, she leapt back. The Bin Brothers caught her by both arms and shoved her forward again.

"Chill the fuck out," she snapped at them, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears defensively. "The next time either of you touch me, I'm taking fingers."

"Oh?" The eerie man's smirk stretched across his face, and she glanced at him in disgust. Whoever the hell he was, she wanted nothing to do with him. "Now isn't that a pretty threat. Tell me, can you make good on it?"

Touka opened her mouth to retort unkindly, but the Bin Brothers shifted in front of her.

"Enough, Yamori," P said coolly. "This one's not for you."

Yamori feigned a frown, though his eyes were alight with amusement. He stretched back, his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his white dress trousers, and he hummed idly.

"It's cute," he said, "that you two think you could stop me from taking her if I wanted her."

Touka's eyes widened. His words hit her hard, the mere idea of anyone  _taking_  her anywhere, as though she were not real, as if she were not in control of her own body, made her nauseous.

"What," she seethed, "the  _fuck_ —!"

X grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her forward, past Yamori and through a corridor. "Stop talking," he hissed at her. "You don't want to be the focus of Yamori's attention, okay?"

She snatched his hand and bent his finger back sharply, listening to it snap. He yelped in pain, and she shoved him into a wall.

"I wasn't fucking around when I said  _don't touch me_." She sniffed, stuffing her hands into her pocket. That Yamori guy made her stomach squirm, and she found it hard not to think about how things might escalate if she took a misstep.

"You're so much like him," P spat suddenly from beside her, gliding past and taking the lead. "You'd be smart to change if you want to get anywhere in life."

"Don't patronize me," she told him flatly. "I'm not here to get lectured on my shitty personality. It's not exactly new to me."

It wasn't. People had been telling her all her life that she was just too fucking much. What was that supposed to mean, anyway? She was herself, a calloused patchwork of emotions that could not be defined and could not be extricated from one another. When she spoke, she told truths with boiled blood slicing through her teeth. When she walked, she deliberately sought to crush the ground beneath her as fast as she possibly could.

It wasn't any surprise that she rubbed most people the wrong way. It wasn't like she wanted anyone to actually like her.

It wasn't like she craved affection.

It wasn't like she wanted to be loved.

She thought about Kaneki and Hide, and she found herself nauseated all over again.

Though maybe for a different reason.

They came to a stop in a large room, dust heavy in the air as it swam in the empty space. There was nothing here but an auditorium worth of space, and a ratty couch leaning up against the far wall, positioned like a throne.

There was someone sitting in it, legs crossed, head tipped, eyes watching her with juxtaposing listlessness and curiosity.

"What's this?" he asked. His voice was silky, threaded with care and leveled out to drape over an entire army. It only reached four people.

"We found her wandering outside." P decidedly did not touch her, though he stuck irrationally close to her side. "Her combat skills are admirable."

"I can see that." The man's eyes swept toward X, who was still nursing the various wounds Touka had inflicted upon him. "What were you doing so far from base?"

"We saw her approaching," P explained. "We didn't think much of it until we actually fought her."

"And she won?"

"Clearly," Touka spoke up, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

The man looked at her sharply. She knew, of course, how intimidation tactics worked. She was nervous from the start, finding it difficult to focus on anything with his eyes beating her brain into her skull. But she had to overcome that.

There was a child sitting on the ground beside the makeshift throne. They'd been sleeping when Touka had walked in, presumably, but now they were awake and alert, leaning forward curiously.

"Why did you come here?"

"Why not?" Touka folded her arms across her chest. "You've gained some notoriety. Look…" She shuffled her feet, feeling the inexplicable heat of his stare, as though she'd melt on the spot if she didn't move. "I'm not going to spew up some bullshit, like let me fight for you, I'm the best, or whatever. I'm not the best. But I'm not bad either, and I can get shit done."

The man tipped his chin back. The lower half of his face was covered in a shiny red mask. "Humble," he all but cooed.

"Honest," Touka corrected sharply. "Do you think I'm here to play fake knights of the round, trash king? Newsflash, monarchies are dead."

Oh. Shit.

 _Ha ha, oh my fucking god, I just fucked up_ , she thought, averting her gaze sharply as a deadly silence stifled her.

A tinkling giggle rang throughout the room, bouncing sharply off the walls and rippling through the air like a heavy stone tossed into a pool. Touka looked to the child sharply, watching them rise to the balls of their feet, rocking onto their toes.

"Trash king," the little child sang. "I like that. Don't you, Tatara?"

"Very funny." Tatara, whose silky voice had been drenched in poison, leaned back. "I'm glad you're amused."

"Well, she is very amusing, no?" The child wore bandages, covering every inch of their flesh in the ribbed, off white strips. A pink frock that appeared to be handstitched and threadbare was draped over their tiny frame, thin and airy. Everything about this child was waiflike and languid. Like a blanket that had been left out on a clothesline for weeks on end, and become weather-beaten and ragged. "Don't be so sore about it. I know you know what I know."

Her heart had seized at the child's words, as if a vague threat had been dipped into them. She watched the waif toe forward, stepping between Touka and Tatara.

"Come here," they called out, lifting their arms, beckoning her toward them.

Touka knew she didn't particularly want to, but there was something eerie about this child that made her feel like she had to. It had been a direct command, something she could not easily ignore. And what had Kaneki said?

Be obedient.

So she cautiously walked forward, her boots clipping the creaky wooden floor. The child was taller than she'd expected.

The child was practically her height. Just a few centimeters shorter. 

It took her face in its bandaged hands, the rough feeling of the stretchy fabric brushing her cheeks shocking her. Touka's eyes were wide, her mouth opening to shout, but the waif dragged their fingers along her lips, rendering her speechless. Fingers were prying open her mouth, the kind of rough, intimate gesture that did not bode well for someone who prioritized in bodily autonomy. But this thing made her feel so weak. Her mind had been washed of all objections, and she was frozen under this spell, feeling farther and farther away. Their small fingers were plucked from Touka's mouth, and pushed the hair from her eye.

"Ayato never told me he had a sister," it said.

Touka was breathless.

Captivated and nauseated.

 _Ayato-kun_. So this thing knew her brother better than the rest, it seemed. Touka even heard something of  _fondness_  there. She wondered what it would take to get in this thing's good favors.

What she was willing to do to get there.

But then the waif dragged its fingers from Touka's skin, and the enchantment ended.

Touka inhaled sharply, taking a step back from the child and covering her mouth. The residual tingle of cotton sat on her tongue. It made her skin crawl.

"Ayato," Tatara repeated. His eyes narrowed. "I see."

The waif whirled around on their toes. "Ask what you'd like," it said. "I'm done with her."

"Excellent." Tatara leaned forward. "Tell me your name, little Kirishima."

"Um, I'm actually older," Touka stated weakly.

"That's irrelevant."

"Not to me," she snapped.

"Oooh," the waif exhaled, dropping into a cross-legged position, their pink frock ballooning around them.

"Your first name," Tatara demanded. "Now."

"It's  _Touka_ , your  _majesty_ ," she spat, her eyes narrowed up at him. "Are you the leader here?"

"Mind your mouth, girl. When you are asked questions, you don't respond with questions. Got it?"

"Fine." She folded her arms across her chest. "My name is Touka. Happy?"

He eyed her, and she waited for a fight to initiate. When it didn't, she didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.

"Why did you come here?"

It was the same question as before. But now it seemed to hold more weight.

Touka sighed. She pushed her dirty hair from her face, glancing about the room sharply.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"That's not a very good answer."

"Maybe not," she told him coolly, "but it's an honest one."

That seemed to satisfy him, which was genuinely shocking. "Where did you come from?" he asked.

"The… twentieth ward." She couldn't lie. She knew she couldn't lie, not about the facts of her life that Ayato would know. She sighed. "I lived there for a while."

The waif had cocked its head curiously.

"A while," Tatara repeated. "Interesting. There is very little conflict in that ward, so I've heard. Why did you leave?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Here was the part where the lies came in. She had a few planned out, but she knew it was best to ground her lies in truths.

"I recently killed a dove," she admitted. "It's gotten… messy. There were others involved, and if I can spare them the blame, I will. So I left. It's simple."

"You killed a dove?" Tatara's eyes flashed with interest. "Which one?"

Touka's brow furrowed tightly, because she really had been trying to forget. But the name had stuck out. She'd read it in the paper, read the obituary a hundred times over, her hands shaking as her eyes connected  _brutalized_  to  _Rabbit_  to  _late wife_  to  _daughter_. Inside her head, she saw a young woman being handed a silver ring and an empty apology.

"Mado Kureo." Touka watched his brow arch. "Ring a bell?"

"That one was a nuisance," Tatara admitted. "It's good to be rid of him."

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome." Touka rolled her eyes. "Does that answer all your questions?"

"Not quite." Tatara's eyes narrowed. "How did you find us?"

"You're not exactly  _quiet_ , you know." She frowned deeply. "Someone told me where to go. I don't know how they got that information, but my guess is that they followed one of  _your_ men, which is not my problem. Now." She lifted her head high. "Is that it?"

Tatara's eyes raised to somewhere above and beyond her face. She stiffened, as if already knowing the terror that would come after her.

She heard heavy footsteps pound against the squeaky wood behind her. She took a deep breath, and cautiously turned around.

It meant a lot, really. That Ayato froze.

He saw her face, and his melted in utter shock.

She saw it go from anger to alarm to anxiety and then back to anger again in no more than five seconds. It made him look so much younger than she knew he was, as though she had turned back time, and it was still easy and simple, like he was twelve and she was fourteen again. But he wasn't twelve, and he wasn't going to let her tend to his wounds or carry him up the steps. He wasn't going to look at her like she could do anything, because the moment she'd shown a sign of weakness, he'd just assumed that she was capable of nothing.

He exhaled shakily.

"What," he punctuated each individual word like a slap. "Are. You. Doing. Here."

Touka stared at him.

She knew she looked sad. She couldn't fucking help it. She didn't  _want_  to wear this emotion so candidly, but it was hard when he was shaking, his fury rolling like waves upon rocks, and she wanted so badly to ask him why. Why was he so fucking angry with her? What had she done wrong? How could she fix it?

Suddenly Ayato was looking around, his neck viciously snapping to and fro. "What the hell?" he snapped, his eyes flicking from Tatara to Eto. "What's going on? She's an outsider— she has to go!" Ayato stepped forward. "I'll do it."

"Hush now," the waif laughed. "You don't get to decide those things, Ayato."

"She's  _trash_!" Ayato jerked his finger at Touka, and she tried not to look hurt despite feeling a crushing amount of sorrow. "All she's done the past few years is be a lousy human sympathizer, going to  _school_ , and pretending to be  _one of them_! She's worthless!"

Touka's fists clenched. Okay. Now she was pissed.

"You don't get it," she said coldly, "because you're obsessed with power. Some people don't need it."

"Oh please," Ayato sneered, jerking forward. "I  _know_  how weak you are! Anyone who can bear to live alongside that sleaze is weak!"

"Maybe if you went to school," Touka laughed venomously, "you'd understand how stupid you sound. And, by the way, you're fucking stupid."

"More stupid than sitting by, waiting for the humans to notice I'm not one of them?" Ayato seethed. "Ha! How did you even fucking survive this long? Ugh, you almost  _smell_  like a human!"

"You don't get it, Ayato," she snapped. "Some people are content with the little things in life. Like  _living_."

"Well I'm not here to fucking settle," he replied in a voice so low that it rumbled beneath the floorboards.

And then he leaped at her.

It was incredible, truly, because he was far faster than she'd ever actually imagined.

 _Fuck,_  she thought as he kneed her in the stomach and threw her to the ground. The pain was crippling, her whole body tensing up. She rolled over before he could kick her again, kicking herself to her feet and backpedaling. He was already in front of her, his fist crashing into her shoulder, and she hissed, kicking him away. Her heel clipped his rib, and he buckled, but caught her by the ankle and threw her into the creaky floor.

"Fuck," she rasped aloud, skidding out of the way as he tried to drag her back. She rolled into a crouch, panting a bit. "Ayato, calm down!"

"Go back to Anteiku, you idiot sister!" He tried to kick her again, and she dashed away, swerving behind him and elbowing him in the spine. He whirled around and kicked her in the face. She fell flat on her back, pain blinding her. She didn't even know what was happening now, because that force had sent everything in her into a state of pure numbness. She groaned, rolling onto her side.  _He's too fast_ , she thought,  _he's so much faster than me_ …

"See? Weak." He snatched her up by her hair, and she cracked open in eye. "Pathetic."

She swung her legs up around his arm and used his body weight to fling him over onto his back. "Ayato," she spat, blood dribbling from her nose, "stop." She then stood, dropping her backpack from her shoulders and relishing in the weightlessness. "You're acting like a baby. Shut up. Grow up."

That struck a nerve.

He leaped to his feet, his eyes flicking black. It wasn't even a gradual process. It was just one moment they were white and the next they were gleaming pits.

"Stay  _down_!" He threw a punch at her, which she dodged. Barely. "You shouldn't even be here! Go back to your gross, cushy little life, and leave me alone!"

"Why?" Touka threw out her arms. "What the fuck, Ayato? What is your goddamn problem?"

"You!" He kicked her again, and she went sailing across the floor. Her jacket was threaded with splinters when she sat up, sniffing miserably. The ache in her head was awful, but she'd been through worse, and this felt more like a sparring match than a real fight. He grabbed her by the front of her shirt and punched her in the face. She took the hit, dizzied by the blow and by the subsequent ringing. And then she kicked him in the jaw.

They both rolled onto the floor. She coughed, he growled, and she watched his kagune gutter into life. It was bigger and bolder and far more beautiful than hers was. She crouched on the ground, watching him dully.

"Leave," he gasped, his face twisted and ugly from his rage.

She was shaking. She wanted to know why, if she was angry or if she was scared, but something wet hit her hand, and she glanced down. Expecting blood, she was sickened to find a teardrop had hit her knuckles.

Gross.

She wiped her eyes furiously.

"I won't," she said, rising slowly to her feet.  _I won't leave you_.

She wished she could understand what was going on inside his head.

His hatred was so palpable. What had she done to deserve this scorn?

So he attacked again, his wings slicing at the air, and she found herself doing a ballet of movements. Her feet barely touched the ground, and they circled each other. His kagune swept, and she danced out of the way, breathless and sweaty and blood and beyond exhausted. She was weak. She knew why.

Yoriko. Touka had been eating human food for awhile before leaving. It had finally caught up to her.

Damn.

She was tackled, pinned onto her back. Ayato's black eyes were piercing her brain.

"Go home," he hissed.

She stared at him with wide eyes, her heart palpitating. Tatara and the eerie child were watching.

 _Impress them_.

She twisted her body and craned her neck, her teeth closing and tearing a chunk of skin out of his exposed shoulder. He screamed, and the sound was echoing in her ears as she struggled to swallow the shredded skin. It tasted bland. She forced it down her throat, and head-butted him.

When she was free, she skidded away, her feet gliding across the floor. Her kagune tore from her shoulder and knocked him off his feet.

Blood dribbled down her chin, down her nose, and she kicked him in the face. She felt rejuvenated. Her aching subsided.

He got back up, albeit shakily, and Touka realized the entire room was bathed in the glow of them. Red and starving.

Before he could leap at her again, Tatara stepped between them, holding out his hands to separate them.

"That's enough," he said. "Ayato, this is not your choice. Touka stays."

Ayato's whole body seemed to explode in fury. "That's  _bullshit_!" he roared. "She can't—!"

"She can, and she will. Go cool down. Now."

Ayato's eyes widened. Perhaps it had been a long while since he'd felt the sting of defeat.

His kagune dissipated, leaving him looking small and hollow.

When he spun on his heel, he shook the whole room with his impudent stomping.

Touka coughed, blood and spittle splashing from her lips. She wiped her mouth and grimaced.

"Let me show you the bathroom," the waif suggested, taking Touka by the bloody hand. It scooped up her bag as it went. "Everything is communal. You don't mind, of course."

Touka didn't like the way this… person… seemed to assume and project things onto her.

"Thanks…" Touka found herself in a makeshift bath house. It was early, so there was no one in there. Water from a sink filled up a tub. The tub was grimy, and it reminded her of something she'd seen in a period piece ages ago. It had been white porcelain once, but now it looked ill from how gray it had become.

The waif stood and watched as Touka set her bag down and tested the water. It was lukewarm on the side of cold. She'd deal with it.

"Um…" Touka glanced back at the person. "Who are you?"

It giggled.

"Eto," it said smoothly. Dawn light had filtered in through the partially boarded, foggy windows. It made the dust in this bathroom skitter and dance, and the rusty metal glint like it was something so much newer than it truly was. Touka could see Eto smiling through the bandages. "That was quite the interesting reunion. Human sympathizer."

Touka stiffened. "He's angry," she said quietly, licking her bloody lips. "He doesn't get it. I just wanted a normal life."

"You're not normal, Touka."

"I  _know_  that!" She shot Eto a fierce glare. "I don't need anyone to remind me I'm a ghoul. Especially not him."

"Maybe," Eto suggested, dragging a bandaged finger over a dusty sink, "he thinks you abandoned him."

"What?"

The strange little waif shrugged. Their odd, pitted eyes seemed to go on forever. "He's bitter," Eto explained. "You chose humans over him."

"I didn't choose anything over him," she scoffed. "I just decided that maybe staying in one place would be nice."

"But you didn't consider how he felt," Eto sang.

"Well—!" Touka flushed. She didn't know what to say. "He didn't give me a chance! I can't understand him."

"Careful, Touka," Eto warned in a sing-song little voice. "Don't show everyone that you are so heartless."

"What…?" Touka blinked, trying to process these words, but before she could really understand it, Eto was gone.

She shuddered. So creepy.

She peeled her clothes off and stuffed them into her bag, lowering herself into the tub. She washed her hair and face first, feeling that sweat and blood was clinging everywhere. The water was pink in the bright shafts of sunlight that glowed upon her. She pulled her knees up to her chest, biting her tongue and watching droplets ripple the pinkish bath. Her tears had rolled down her nose, dripping from its tip.

Strong. She had to be strong. For Ayato. For Anteiku.

This was something she'd never wanted. She felt like everything in her was collapsing in on itself. She was a star, and soon she would be a supernova, and soon she would be a black hole.

She sunk deeper into the water into the tips of her hair looked like swirls of ink on the surface.

She was so tired.

Light glittered on the surface of the water. The beads on her skin glinted. Everything seemed so caught in the moment that it was almost beautiful in a faint, faded way.

She got dressed hastily when she was done, draining the bath and shaking her hair out. She took her bag up a stairwell, moving sluggishly as every step creaked, sheetrock crunching underfoot, metal railings screeching. She found a nicely sized windowsill, dropping her bag onto it, and then promptly climbed up on the ledge. She watched the sun as she laid down, white light flitting along the wooded area surrounding the building. Her eyelids felt so heavy. She thumbed the dirty glass, drawing a bunny in the filth.

When she nodded off, she didn't even notice her brother plopping down on the stairs below, his back against the rickety rail, his eyes averted warningly.

* * *

When he hadn't gotten a call from Touka immediately, he began to worry.

She could be dead. Or they could have tortured her, like they'd tortured him.  _Yamori_  could have gotten to her. He had not forgotten the terror of being under that man's cruel, corkscrew thumb.

But Ayato wouldn't allow that. Kaneki knew that at the very least Ayato cared about Touka. He had a shitty way of showing it, but it was true.

Kaneki thought it might be the saddest thing in the world that two people could love each other so much, and actively hurt one another so thoroughly.

Days passed. Nearly a week. Kaneki went with Amon and Mutsuki to a few different places. Kaneki had gotten a call that his mask was done, and that he could pick it up soon. One day they went to another academy, which Mutsuki politely declined to attend. He'd go to the office instead.

The seventh junior academy was bigger and more atmospheric than the second. It actually radiated with some joy, kids bouncing from place to place, chatting eagerly. There weren't many who looked despondent or sad. Amon went to the registrar himself to ask about the kids, how they were, if there had been any strange activity. He wouldn't ask if anyone had gone missing, but he'd find a way to get to the point. Kaneki trusted that.

While he waited, Kaneki walked through the hall, swinging his briefcase and staring at Touka's cellphone. She'd call. She would. He knew she would.

Trust. He had to remember that it was okay to trust people. She was the strongest person he knew.

He had to accept that sheltering people was not the same as protecting them.

It was scary. Change was scary.

He stopped in the middle of the hall, staring vacantly at a girl who had decided to sleep on one of the stone benches in the courtyard. He could hear her snoring from here. He wondered what she was doing. Her hair was brown and fluffy, tied in to fat ponytails at her ears that hung over the side of the bench. Kaneki decided to approach her, because other kids were pointing and snickering, and that was uncomfortable.

He was stopped suddenly by a young man. His hair was shockingly yellow, his eyes tired and electric. He had a distinct smile, the kind of grin of someone who had really needed braces as a child but couldn't afford it.

"Yo!" He pointed at Kaneki's face. "You're an investigator!"

"Hi," Kaneki gasped, taking a step back. "Hi. Yes. I am."

This boy was someone Kaneki might have been nervous around when he'd been younger.

"That's amazing!" The boy peered at Kaneki's face. "You look so young! Hey, how old are you?"

"I'm nineteen." Kaneki had forgotten that he was actually still eighteen, but whatever. Who cared?

"Holy shit!" The boy's hands flew into the air. "That's amazing! Fuckin'… ah!" He bounced up and down excitedly. "Tell me how you did it!"

"Did… what?"

"Became an investigator so young! How old were you when you graduated the academy?"

"I didn't go to the academy," Kaneki said bemusedly.

The boy's jaw dropped.

"Ho-ly  _fuck_!" He snatched Kaneki by both shoulders. "Tell me how you did it, man. I gotta know."

"Um…"

"Stop manhandling the investigator, Shirazu."

Shirazu's face fell at the sound of another boy's voice. Unlike Shirazu, who had a raspy drawl, likely the result of smoking, this voice was smooth and collected. It was the sort of clipped tone that always sounded like it was persuading you to do something you'd rather not do.

Kaneki turned to see a boy wearing a neatly presented school uniform. His tie was knotted tightly, his shirt ironed and pressed, his sweater vest new and recently washed. Kaneki glanced between the boys. There was a clear difference between them that Kaneki personally knew well.

One boy had a caring parent at home. The other was on his own.

Shirazu's shirt was threadbare, second hand, and cheap to begin with. He'd picked it up at a thrift store. Kaneki knew thrift stores pretty well. They were golden when you were struggling to figure out how to pay rent. Literally. No one had taught him how to do that. He had to teach himself how to be an adult.

No wonder he was so fucked up.

"Ha ha… didn't hear you sneak up, Urie." The way Shirazu said the other boy's name made it sound like they didn't know each other that well. He seemed nervous. "It's just that he's only nineteen and a full time investigator! Ain't that something else?"

"It happens." Urie glanced at Kaneki briskly, as though he was trying to figure out exactly how Shirazu's words were true. "The CCG will often make special exemptions for investigators with incredible skill. Like Arima."

It had taken everything in Kaneki not to flinch.

Shirazu didn't really look like he knew what Urie was talking about, but he nodded firmly. "I just want to know how he did it though," he gasped. "Don't you?"

Urie looked pensive, his brow furrowing as he peered at Kaneki. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Ah…" He cracked a sheepish smile. "No, I don't. I'll just go through the academy as planned. Any other way would be cheating, I feel like."

"You're such a goody goody," Shirazu snorted.

"I'm just practical." Urie rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should focus more on your studies and stop looking for an easy way around it, Shirazu."

Shirazu's jaw tightened, and he hunched. He seemed like Urie's words had struck him somehow. Then he smiled broadly. "Just trying to make the most of my time, man," he said.

"Well, let me know how that works out." Urie turned to Kaneki and bowed his head respectfully. "Excuse me, Mr…?"

"Kaneki."

"Mr. Kaneki, then. I have to go." Urie brushed past them, and then paused, glancing into the courtyard. He sighed softly. "Is that girl sleeping again?"

"You know her?" Kaneki glanced into the open courtyard. It was chilly outside, and it seemed impractical to sleep out there.

"Not really." Urie frowned deeply. He didn't look like he actually wanted to bother checking on the girl. "Shirazu, go tell her she can't sleep there."

"Why don't you do it?"

"I'm already late." Urie shrugged. "Besides, people like you." He turned away. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Kaneki."

"Yeah." Kaneki watched his back as he crossed into a separate building. "Same."

"Ugh…" Shirazu looked puzzled. "I don't get that guy at all."

"He seemed nice enough."

"Sure, he's nice." Shirazu's brow furrowed. "But he doesn't like getting close to like, anyone. It's hard to know him."

"Ah." Kaneki knew how that was.

"Anyway, I can wake Yonebayashi." Shirazu glanced at the girl. "She's always doing this. I don't know what she shows up for, honestly."

"Is she okay?" Kaneki asked worriedly.

"Who knows?" Shirazu grimaced. "Nobody really talks to her because all she does is sleep and skip activities."

"Well…" Kaneki watched the girl lounge on the bench, and he sighed. "I hope she's okay…"

"She's fine," Shirazu assured him. "Everyone knows Yonebayashi sleeps more than she breathes. It's fine."

Kaneki opened his mouth to object, but suddenly a phone began to ring.

"Ah!" Kaneki pulled Touka's phone from his pocket staring at the screen. The number was blocked from view.

"Cute bunny," Shirazu pointed out, grinning broadly.

Kaneki nodded fiercely, and he turned away. "Sorry, I have to take this!" He was already walking briskly away. " _Hello_?"

" _You really did keep my phone, huh? Creep._ " Touka sounded tired and bored. " _Do you want to know some shit, or not?"_

"I'm just glad to hear your voice!" Kaneki gasped. "Are you okay? Everything is okay?"

" _Peachy._ " She was clearly being sarcastic. That was fine. He was used to it. " _My brother hates me, but that's nothing new. I haven't killed anyone yet, but that'll probably change since I refuse to eat the meat they're giving me."_

Meat. He remembered. He remembered digging his hands into a cadaver and ripping it apart. It had been nauseating.

Once.

Now it didn't seem like such a daunting task.

"Um, can I ask why?"

" _They don't feed their people here equally._ " Touka sounded sharp. Bitter. Like a cold winter night. " _I don't need to take their food when I can hunt for myself. I'll give whatever they give me to the weaker ghouls._ "

"That's really charitable of you."

" _It's just me being decent, okay?_ " She exhaled sharply. " _Anyway, I'm on my own right now. They finally let me go out, though I'm sure someone's tailing me._ "

"Do you want to meet up?"

" _Eh, sounds risky. I'm gonna write the info down in drop it off somewhere. Give me a place._ "

A place…

What was a good place to hide things?

He had to think.

"There's a park," he said. "Near where I used to live. It's a little outside this ward though."

" _Give me the address._ "

And that was that.

As Kaneki walked back to the registrar, Amon walked out. He was speaking on the phone heatedly, his brow furrowed. He met Kaneki's eye, and he turned away sharply.

"I get that," he snapped, "but you're not understanding me. There is a logical reason why Mutsuki wouldn't be answering his phone."

"What?" Kaneki asked sharply.

Amon held up a finger to hush him. "No, I get it— no, I  _don't_  want to talk to Washuu Matsuri. I don't know where Mutsuki is, and I don't know what's happening, so please—" Amon winced, and he glanced at his phone. He sighed and hung up. "Come on, Kaneki, we have to go."

"What happened to Mutsuki?" Kaneki gasped, his stomach lurching in horror.

"I have no idea." Amon led him forward through the front door and into the bitter November air. "Apparently he didn't show up at the office, and he was supposed to have a doctor's appointment today. On top of that, Washuu Matsuri personally is trying to get ahold of him, and nothing is working."

"I don't like this," Kaneki whispered.

"Me either." They got into the car, and glanced at each other. "We should check your apartment first."

"Okay."

As they drove, Kaneki couldn't help but think about all the possible scenarios. The stories that had been told at the second junior academy were getting to his head, but he didn't want to find Mutsuki in the bathroom, hurt or worse. He didn't want to see such a thing come to fruition.

Kaneki all but ran up his apartment steps, rushing to his door and finding it unlocked. He didn't like that. He pushed the door open cautiously, glancing back at Amon. The apartment looked relatively the same as when he'd left, except for one thing.

One of the files he'd stolen, which he'd tucked away in a drawer in the kitchenette, was lying open on the table. Beside it, Mutsuki's cellphone.

"Oh shit," Kaneki said, clapping his forehead in disbelief. "Mutsuki's file."

"Kaneki…" Amon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you…  _tell_  Mutsuki that you took his file?"

Kaneki grimaced.

Amon inhaled sharply, and he smacked Kaneki upside the head.

"Ah…" Kaneki groaned. "This is bad. I didn't even  _read_ it, I just… I wanted to have it. I felt bad."

"I shouldn't have let you keep it in the first place," Amon muttered, shaking his head. "This is my fault."

"We don't even know that he's not here," Kaneki said weakly, walking over to the file. "I mean… it can't be that bad…"

He knew it was that bad before he even looked at it.

The first thing he saw was a picture of a younger Mutsuki, dead eyed and languid, mauve circles biting into the dark skin beneath his eyes. His bio listed the basics. His hair color, black. His eye color, black. His race, mixed. His sex, female.

Ah.

Kaneki stopped to stare at the word for a little longer than he should have.

He swallowed thickly, and decidedly moved on.

Overthinking this would be a mistake.

There was a medical report. First and foremost. Kaneki found himself sinking to his knees. It was from a hospital. It listed Mutsuki's injuries, a broken arm, lacerations on his stomach. It referred to him with traditionally feminine pronouns, though, which threw Kaneki for a loop. He had to reread it a few times. The report concluded that Mutsuki Tooru was in stable condition. The only Mutsuki to be stabilized and survive. Apparently, as Kaneki read it, Mutsuki had had a brother who had been admitted to the same hospital with more grievous wounds. The brother had died.

There was another report dated not long after the hospital report. This one was from a psychiatric facility. Kaneki felt uncomfortable reading this. He was invading Mutsuki's privacy. He'd tucked this file away with the intention of reading it on a later date— he hadn't intentionally breached Mutsuki's trust, but he knew what this was now, and he couldn't stop. This report, like the last, referred to Mutsuki as a she. Patient shows signs of PTSD, insomnia, depression, anxiety disorder, suicidal thoughts, dissociation. Kaneki didn't think they'd all come at once, though, because the report seemed scattered. It seemed like the PTSD, depression, and suicidal thoughts were a primarily an early thing, while the insomnia, anxiety, and dissociation were persistent.

Washuu Yoshitoki had said that he'd had the only copy of this file.

Unless Yoshitoki had a different file.

In that case, Kaneki figured he ought to hand this over.

But he couldn't help but keep going.

Mutsuki had clearly tried very hard to get out of his situation. There were notes from the doctor that he (read she) was steadily improving. Taking his required medication, never acting out. He shouldn't have been in the facility for as long as he had been, but he'd had nowhere else to go.

Kaneki assumed that the CCG had taken him from the facility. There was no other explanation.

There were a few other medical reports. A note about Mutsuki's insistence to be referred to with masculine pronouns. Some write ups from a nurse, primarily for bloody noses. Mutsuki had anemia, which made these occasions worse.

The final report was dated months ago, detailing Mutsuki being rushed to the hospital after being found severely injured, with deep lacerations moving erratically from his navel up his abdomen. The nature of the wounds were of "unknown origin" but the doctors were adamant that he could not have inflicted them himself. Additionally, they had been irritated, and older than they'd appeared.

Kaneki was shaking by the end of this report, trying to piece together what it all meant.

"He ran away," he whispered.

"How do you know for sure?" Amon asked.

"I don't." Kaneki tentatively closed the file. He closed his eyes. "I just have a feeling. Like I betrayed him, and I didn't even know it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pudor, pudoris.  
> sense of shame; modesty


	17. filatim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i had a terrible week but that's life or whatever. i remember being very proud of this chapter, and upon rereading it's still one of my favorites. i'll try to get updating a little more regularly.

Sons were made to give their fathers grief.

Oh, it was the simple things in life that made it worth living. Like the rushing amalgamation of exhilaration, pride, and delight when you walk through the front door after a long day at work, and your son rushes toward you on stubby legs, arms outstretched. The first steps, the first words, and then the first fight, and then the first utterance of, "I hate you."

And then the first revelation that sons were not made to love their fathers as fathers loved their sons.

Washuu Yoshitoki thumbed through the procedural file containing a detailed account of all of Mutsuki Tooru's medical records, school records, personal achievements, and journals kept while in therapy. He had just gotten the call. Amon had admitted that he did not want to report this, that Kaneki had begged him not to, that Kaneki had assured him that he would fix this. But Amon was worried. And Yoshitoki supposed that was reasonable.

He was worried too.

This boy was self-destructive by design.

A soft ball of yarn made to unravel.

Yoshitoki did not know why he'd approved of his quinx surgery. He'd seen the folder, read it cover to cover half a dozen times, and there was so much that didn't bode well. He'd closed the folder for the first time, and he had thought to himself, _If I let this poor child do this, I will be throwing him to the wolves_.

And he had.

Regret was a familiar feeling. A sting that persisted and turned into a desperate ache.

You don't get to take back the mistakes you make. And Yoshitoki was drowning in mistakes.

The doctors had been rather unkind about Mutsuki's gender identity. They'd assumed it was just another part of his psychosis. Yoshitoki thought himself to be fairly liberal and modern, at least in the eyes of an old, traditional family like the Washuus. He didn't want Mutsuki to feel ostracized, and though he could not empathize, he sympathized. It was unfair that the doctors had dismissed his desire to live as a boy. Perhaps the situation would have been fairly different if Mutsuki had been treated with kindness from the very start.

 _I can't reconcile this feeling that I'm not meant to be here, wearing this dress, wearing this body. I don't want to bother anyone about it. It's not a new development. I feel like I've felt this way since I was aware the world was round and the sky was blue. But it only gets worse and worse, and I try—_ scratches, rapid and hasty, executed the next few words, which Yoshitoki could barely make out. Beneath the frantic slashes of Mutsuki's pen, he'd written, _to be normal, I want to be normal, I don't know how to be normal_. But perhaps Mutsuki had realized how frantic and desperate that had sounded. Mutsuki Tooru was smart, and he had clearly wanted to get out of the place he'd been in. So he'd scribbled out his desperation, and continued steadily. _I have tried to be something I am not for my whole life. And I know it makes no sense for me to want to be a man, because I am weak, and I am told over and over and over again that I am too gentle, and too soft, and too feminine, and maybe that's true. I know my heart isn't strong. I know my body is fragile. I know. But I try. And I'll keep trying. And I won't stop trying. Don't make me stop trying._

He'd known that the journal was to be examined. So he'd begged.

Let the boy be himself, or condemn him to a life of perpetual sadness.

It was an easy choice, and yet…

The file that Kaneki Ken had stolen had been irrelevant. So Yoshitoki had thought. Those medical records had been there because the file had mostly been an incident report about the issues surrounding the attack on Mutsuki Tooru that had happened several months prior. In order to open the investigation, some of the more prominent medical reports in Mutsuki's file had been photocopied. They were trying to find a way to pin the attack on Mutsuki himself.

Yes, yes, Mutsuki Tooru was immeasurably self-destructive, but his contentment with death only went as far as his need to please others.

Yoshitoki had a theory that if he ordered the boy to survive against all odds, then he would do it gladly.

But no one had ordered him to live, so Yoshitoki was mildly concerned about what he was doing, where he'd gone, and what the result of this uncomfortable situation would be.

A knock at his door was enough to prompt Yoshitoki to close the file and push it aside.

"Come in, Matsuri."

His son watched him from the doorway. He'd opened the door before knocking, and then knocked to get Yoshitoki's attention, impudent as ever. This was nothing new. There was nothing new about Matsuri. He was the same as he'd been when he had left for Germany. They had not said goodbye. Yoshitoki had gone to the airport, of course. He wasn't a total disgrace of a father. But while Yoshitoki had stood, meeting the eye of his son as he'd handed over his boarding pass, he sensed the animosity in the air.

What could Yoshitoki do to undo the hatred coiled within Matsuri's heart?

"You wanted something."

Matsuri had pride. That was Yoshitoki's fault. He had been too present in Matsuri's life, and there was a curse to being a Washuu that was innately tied to touch. Yoshitoki had seen Matsuri's small, squalling face, and fallen in love. And that had been a mistake.

Oh, regret. What a familiar friend.

To put it simply, Yoshitoki had loved Matsuri too much, and then maybe too little, and then maybe not at all. It was all a blur. Your first son will do that. You love and love and love until there is no love left for something you don't remember creating. He'd plucked Matsuri from a life of obscurity, giving him a name, a life, a legacy. His father had warned him.

To put a name to your mistake was to hand it a sword and kneel before it with your neck extended.

"Please," Yoshitoki said, smiling softly. "Sit down."

Matsuri looked older than he was. Had Yoshitoki done that? He must have been responsible for the lines creasing his face. The bags beneath his eyes. He was so gray and joyless.

He had not always been this way.

But then, he had not always had the name Washuu.

Yoshitoki did not know how to properly bear the two indisputable facts that had come out of his parenting experience.

The child could only be happy if, one, he was not a Washuu.

Because there was something in a name, in _this_ name, that made children turn into dead eyed husks. Yoshitoki had been sure that his love and this name could coexist, that it would be enough, but time had proven him wrong, and there was no happiness in sight for a boy who saw the throne of the CCG in his future.

And two, if Yoshitoki remained uninvolved with the details of his life and future.

His love, his undying, uncompromising love, could not stretch the boundaries of the characters, _吉時_ _,_ that came together to bind him and all his spawn to a tradition that was bathed in blood. And maybe that was for the best. A child can decide for himself if he wants the burden of being adored. If he's comfortable with being ignored. Yoshitoki didn't know how he'd sullied it all so badly, but he knew it was his own fault. Perhaps he'd loved too much and given too little to show for it. For all parties involved.

Simply put? He'd fucked up once. He prayed he wouldn't do it again, but he was not so kind, and ambition was a deadly device.

Maybe he even wished for it.

Like a hunter waiting, watching, wanting for the stag he'd been stalking to get in his sight, to line up with his scope. There was admiration, adoration for the prey that could not be rivaled. And maybe this was the same. Maybe it would be a repeat of the same old mistake, or maybe something bigger and brighter than he could have ever possibly conceived.

But that was just the wishful thinking of an old man who was sad with how things had turned out.

Matsuri sat begrudgingly, his tired eyes flickering warily over Yoshitoki's face. It was like he already knew, which was absolutely likely. Yoshitoki would make no secret out of this. He'd made enough secrets already.

"You seem tired," Yoshitoki observed.

"Just say what you want to say," Matsuri said, propping his elbow up and resting his cheek against his fist. He looked at Yoshitoki like any Washuu would. Disinterest upon disinterest upon disinterest. Like he could be anywhere in the world, and it would be a more promising venture than sitting here in this room. "I know you're not happy. So enlighten me on my latest and greatest mistake."

Sometimes he sounded so familiar.

Was that his own voice echoing back at him?

"You know why you're here, Matsuri."

And his son's eyes moved, sliding dully to the file beneath Yoshitoki's hand. He had no real reaction, which suggested he truly had known from the very start.

"So you haven't found him." Matsuri leaned back into his chair and crossed his legs. "Well, this is surprising. Tell me, what will you do if he shows up dead? He was an expensive pet project."

"Mutsuki is not a pet. You can't just steal him away and manipulate him, and expect there to not be consequences."

"Are there consequences for keeping surveillance on a known ghoul?" Matsuri's brow raised. "Interesting."

"You know what I mean." Yoshitoki sighed, and he shook his head. "Don't do this. Just tell me what you were trying to accomplish by ordering Mutsuki around like this."

"You bring a ghoul into the CCG," Matsuri said in his low, even tone, "and you expect me to explain myself? You should appreciate the irony."

"Accepting Kaneki has nothing to do with your treatment of Mutsuki." Yoshitoki found himself reclining as well, his eye narrowed. "Kaneki did not choose to be this way, nor can you blame him for coming to us for help."

"No," Matsuri said coolly, "but I can blame you for creating abominations. Might I say, I didn't think playing god was your style?" He shrugged. "I can't say I'm surprised, though."

"Oh, please," Yoshitoki laughed, his eyes twinkling, "save your breath for someone who will listen to your accusations. As though you are so moral and just. I make my bad decisions, Matsuri, but at least I _stick_ with them. It's time you learned how to take responsibility over your own failures."

"What failures?"

He sounded so haughty.

Now. This was exactly the kind of monster that pride created.

Yoshitoki had done this with a flick of his wrist and a swish of a pen.

With a tiny hand and butterfly kisses.

There had been a short time when Matsuri had craved Yoshitoki's touch.

And Yoshitoki had ignored him.

The worst part was, he'd always thought he was a good father until he'd been told off.

"You can't even see what's in front of you half the time! Do you even see _me_? No, don't answer! You can't answer honestly, you're just blinded by your fucking pride! Don't speak! Do you ever hear yourself? Do you hear the way you talk to us? I don't know what you want from me, but I know I sure as hell can't give it to you. And even if I could, I don't want to, so just… go. Okay? Let me go. I don't want this. I don't want you."

Sons were made to give their fathers grief.

That was a certainty of life.

"No one ordered you to return to Japan, Matsuri."

"No." Matsuri offered a shrug. "But I'm here, and I'm not going back. Does that make you angry?"

"I'm not angry with you."

"You have an interesting way of showing it." Matsuri stood. "I don't trust Kaneki Ken. He's a ghoul, and Mutsuki Tooru isn't much better. I think they're conspiring."

"Stay away from them, Matsuri." Yoshitoki smiled at his son wanly. "This is not your business. It's mine. They are my responsibility, and their errors are my problem. Whatever you think about them, keep it to yourself and walk away."

"I won't," Matsuri said, "if you're putting our legacy on the line."

"I have done my part to preserve this legacy," Yoshitoki laughed, pushing his chair back. "It's your job to prove that you deserve to be a part of it."

Matsuri's jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in his rage. Yes, that had struck a chord. And of course Yoshitoki felt guilty for that. This was not his intention, to hurt his son with cheap blows. Yoshitoki did not bring up the legitimization often, but when he did, it was because he was overcome by his own volatile range of emotions. Matsuri was too haughty.

Too haughty.

Too haughty.

And when a naughty son was too haughty, the best way to humble him was to beat the pride out of him.

One blow to the ego at a time.

"Some of us are not _born_ lucky, I guess," Matsuri hissed, his composure slipping.

 _Careful_ , Yoshitoki thought tiredly. _This is not a fight you will win, Matsuri_.

"Do not pin your own inadequacies on someone else," Yoshitoki said instead. "You are the only person who can measure your worth."

Matsuri all but leapt out of his chair. He was wiry, his limbs long and bony. He had the proportions of a skeletal creature, something out of a child's nightmare. There was nothing soft about him. And perhaps that was what made him unappealing.

"I'd say go sing your parables to the favorable son, but we both know the only one who will be feeling sorry is you." Matsuri's fingers were spindly as they dug into the back of the chair. "I'm curious. What was it like to finally have all of your hard work thrown back into your face?"

Yoshitoki had not wanted the conversation to swerve this way, but he supposed he deserved it.

"Painful," he told Matsuri with a smile.

That seemed to catch him. Matsuri, with his sharpened features, his personality graying as hair might on an old man. He was caught in the idea that his invulnerable father might be hurting because of something his son had said, had done, had refused to do.

And then, Matsuri raised his chin with utmost pride.

"Good to hear he was good for something," he said. His voice was clipped, at attention, drained of emotion.

And then he turned around and left.

And Yoshitoki had nothing but echoes of his mistakes ringing in his head.

He picked up his phone. His fingers hovered over the numbers. They began to shake.

" _The best thing you ever gave me was_ _space_."

Yoshitoki sighed, and he set the phone gingerly back onto its hook.

* * *

Days went by so listlessly. She felt like she should be doing something more than what she actually was accomplishing, and that made her impatient. Angry. Plus, there were so many more ghouls than she'd ever actually imagined here. At first some of them had tried to intimidate her, until one of the Bin Brothers had called her Kirishima. Apparently Ayato's reputation was something mad to behold.

The first person to catch her giving her rations away had been, wait for it, fucking Yamori.

What a fucking creep.

She'd literally just kicked the packet into a room, watching them watch her with something akin to fear and adoration. It freaked her out, honestly. And the next thing she knew, her arm was being yanked back, and she was dangling. Her feet scraped the floor, and her breath was gone from her as she kicked wildly, trying to figure out how she'd gotten into this position.

"What the fuck?" she gasped.

"Too good for our food, little Kirishima?" Yamori purred into her ear. She kicked off his chest, but it wasn't enough to rip her arm out of his grasp. He was way stronger than she'd expected.

Everyone here called her _chibi_ , or like, _Touka-chan_ , or like, god forbid both. She didn't get it. She wasn't that small. Ayato was smaller than her, and younger, and she was clearly capable, so why were they infantilizing her? It was creepy. This whole fucking place was creepy.

"Let me go and talk to me like a real fucking person, asshole," she sneered, feeling weak and small as she half dangled, half kicked the ever loving shit out of the air.

"You were given perfectly good meat."

She twisted her neck and chomped down on his hand. His skin was cold and difficult to tear, like it was covered in scales. It tasted foul. The meat was thin and grisly, and she'd gotten a chunk of his vein. She swallowed it sharply as she was flung away, her feet skidding across the dusty wood, and she lifted herself up easily.

"I don't need anyone to gather my food for me," she spat, gingerly wiping her lips of the blood with her thumb. "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own meat. Other ghouls here aren't. If you want to build a fucking army, don't feed your soldiers scraps."

Yamori was staring at his hand, watching a rivulet of blood slide down to his wrist thoughtfully. He glanced back at her, and he smirked. "Now you're just jumping to rash conclusions." He licked his hand, and she grimaced.

"Well, get used to it. Also, leave me alone." She tried to get past him, but he blocked her path.

"You're weak," Yamori decided, his eyes glinting as he watched her. "You and your brother are on two completely different spectrums— it'd be unfair to compare you to him."

"Looks like you're having no trouble at all." Touka folded her arms across her chest. Acting tough was all well and good, but getting away from this guy was top priority. "Now seriously. Bye."

As she tried to round Yamori again, she found herself once more cut off. She tried to keep her anger in check, because she knew this was a futile task. Avoiding Yamori had seemed to be a fool's errand. All she'd done for the past few days was skulk around, throw her food away, and make sure she didn't run into any of the higher ups in this shitty organization.

Suddenly she was being dragged back by the hood of her jacket, her shoulder kissing the wall as she stumbled from the force. She managed to regain her balance, and she shot a fierce glare at her assailant.

Lo and behold. It was her goddamn brother.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ayato's voice was like a knife the way it slashed upon the air and twisted her insides. She didn't know who he was talking to, but she felt like she had to fight him.

"I'm just having a conversation." Yamori didn't even bother to make the lie believable, like he didn't care if he pissed off Ayato. Maybe he even intended to.

"You don't think I can't tell when you've got your creep factor on, Yamori?" Ayato's narrowed eyes were alight with his rage, and Touka found herself pressing her back to the wall and holding her breath. The tension in the air was undeniable, a palpable screen that had fallen upon them and was too heavy to lift. She wanted to leave, to flee fast before the blood started to fly, but she couldn't move. "You should be smarter than that."

"It's cute," Yamori chuckled, "that you're getting so defensive. You're the one who said you didn't care what happens to her. But you've always been a compulsive liar."

Ayato bristled like a cat that had been spooked. His breath came out in short huffs, his shoulders hunching up to his ears, and he jerked a finger into Yamori's face.

"I take it back!" he snarled. "I still _don't_ care, but I sure as fuck don't want you to take that as an invitation! Keep your nasty hands to yourself, Yamori."

Much to Touka's surprise, he snatched her wrist as he whirled around and stalked off, dragging her along with him. His grip was tight and his hands were cold and his fingers were bony. She couldn't remember the last time he'd held onto her like this. She watched his back, his bony shoulders still hunched, and she remembered him as a child, leading her through the shadowy arch of trees.

The illusion broke when he threw her into a wall and stomped down a hallway.

Touka was seized by her own anxiety, that she'd done something wrong in caring for Ayato when they'd been younger. She closed her eyes, propping herself against the wall and taking deep breaths. She was fine. This was fine.

And then she heard his thundering footsteps return.

He'd changed his mind.

"Idiot!" He grabbed her shoulders and head-butted her. Her shout was small and clipped, dying fast in her throat as her vision swam. He continued to dig his nails into her shoulders, his twisted face a blur before her eyes. "You pretend like you've got balls, but you ain't hot shit, sis. You're pathetic and weak and Yamori _knows that_! He's gonna keep trying to get at you if you don't step up or keep quiet."

"I can handle it," Touka exhaled.

"No!" Ayato snapped, shoving her back into the wall. "You can't! God! Idiot! Moron! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" The different inflections he put onto the word _baka_ were honestly almost comedic, to the point where she had to hide a smirk with a curtain of hair. "You shouldn't have even come. You're not made for this kind of place."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" She shoved him back. Hard. She watched him stumble backwards, trip over his own feet, and collapse against the opposite wall. His face grew bright red from rage and shame. "You think you're tough shit, huh? Because you decided to keep being a street rat beggar boy until some asshole in a red cape dusted you off and made you into a glorified guard dog? Don't forget who taught you how to fight, you little shit. You don't _get_ to gripe at me about how weak I am— at least I know how to read!"

"Bitch," Ayato rasped, as though she'd physically assaulted him instead of laying down the indisputable truth. "What's a bunch of silly characters gonna do for you when Yamori rips you apart? You _are_ weak and you _shouldn't_ have come, because you can't do this! You're just like dad!"

"Excuse me?" Her fists clenched at her sides. "Say that again. Because you said it like it was a _bad_ thing!"

"Holy shit! Do you honestly still love that piece of shit after what he put us through?" Ayato's face was really red, his whole body on the defensive, locked and shrinking despite the ever booming quality of his voice. He sounded like he wanted to fight and looked like he wanted to cry. "News flash, he left us! He abandoned us!"

Touka didn't want to say what she was thinking.

_He would never have left us willingly, stupid brother._

It was something you accepted when you got older. That the thing you were scared of when you were small was a better truth than the excuses you made to cover up the pain.

"Whatever happened," Touka sighed, rubbing her face tiredly, "was a long time ago. We don't know why it happened. We just know that it did."

"You even sound like him!" Ayato was coiled with fury. His teeth were bared, his eyes fiery. "You two are so soft. I don't care what happened! The only thing that matters is that he's gone, and we were left with a mess. Don't you resent him at all?"

"No, Ayato, I don't." She watched him, the feral way he turned his head, his neck all but snapping to glower at her. He was not made to be gentle or kind. Neither was she. And perhaps that was the hardest part, because she wanted to love and be loved, but everything and everyone seemed to get caught in her spiny thorns, hurting themselves with every inch closer they moved. They were made to destroy everything that they cared for and cared for them.

"I hate you," he whispered. "I hate you so much."

"I know you do." She pushed off the wall and brushed past him. "You can hate me all you want. Hate me until I die. But that won't change anything. I'll still be here. And you will still be unhappy."

And then she marched off.

She hadn't talked to him since then.

The day she went out to go find something to eat— an action that had taken a meeting with Tatara himself to become reality— she was told she needed to return by night fall to go on a mission. She admitted she didn't have a mask yet, so she knew she'd have to go to Hysy to get it.

Kaneki picked up when she called. Part of her wanted to see him, because she felt so lost here, like she was in a crowded room and her thoughts were being drowned out by the noise. At least she'd have someone to speak to. She went to a library and checked out her school's website. They were looking for her. Her school ID photo was plastered on the homepage. She stared at her own face, observing the contours of her cheeks, the way shadows gathered in her eyes and light drained her complexion. She stared, and she lashed out. She unplugged the computer and marched out of the library.

Somehow or another she ended up in Hysy. She was taking trains all over the city today, watching it roll by with a film over her eyes. Aogiri made her feel dirty. She felt like there was scum on her skin, and no matter how long she soaked in that dingy bathtub she would never be able to scrub it off.

"What's crackin', Uta?" Touka strode into the shop without a care, plucking up a mask as she did so. She didn't care if anyone was with him. It was a beaked mask, something like a plague doctor, and it reminded her of Yomo. Her heart ached. She wanted to go home.

Uta, without missing a beat, rolled into view and offered out his hand. "Nuts?"

She glanced down at the human testicles in his hand.

"No thanks," she said flatly.

"Don't like nuts, Touka?" The way he said _Touka-chan_ was airy and light, his voice a breeze and his words a weight. She scowled at him.

"Clearly not as much as you do." She covered her face with the mask. "Quick! Who am I?"

"You do remind me of Ren," Uta said thoughtfully. "Have you ever noticed? You are very alike, you know."

"Me?" She lowered the mask to scoff in his face. "Like Yomo? Those balls aren't the only nuts in this room."

"Not the way he is now, I guess." Uta hummed, spinning side to side in his chair. "The way he was before. When we were young. Young and angry and hungry." Uta smiled his soft stretch of a smile. "For different reasons."

"You're a weird guy, Uta." Touka set the bird mask aside. "So am I cool? Can I get my mask?"

"Eager to fight?"

She scowled at him.

"Has Kaneki gotten his mask yet?" She folded her arms across her chest. "I'll take it if it's done."

"Mhm, it's done." Uta stood up. "I wanted to see him wear it, though. I'm really quite excited about this one."

"You can't approach Kaneki," Touka sighed. "He's definitely being swarmed by doves right now, and your eyes are… well. You know. You'd be caught in a second."

"True enough, I guess. Sad, though." Uta was rummaging in the back. The sound of moving papers, shifting fabric, and shuffling boxes made her peek behind the curtain. Uta's studio was a hot mess, that was for sure. It was an explosion of color, of glitter and fabric and measurements and glass and metal and string and buckles and plastic and paint. There were heads, blank, faceless busts on every visible surface, some half decorated in satin or cracked vinyl or plastic coverings, some with pins sticking out of their noses and cheekbones, some with chunks of their empty faces ripped off.

She whistled, and she whistled low.

"You should model," Uta called out to her.

"I'm not going to model."

"Not even for me?"

"No, Uta."

"And Ayato? Would he do it?"

"No, Uta. Definitely not."

"Sad face." Uta said this in the most genuine, unironic voice she'd ever heard. She couldn't even cringe, because this was Uta. "I guess it's pointless to ask for Ren, then."

"Listen," Touka said with a snort, "if you wanna ask him, be my guest. Actually, record that. I want to see his lack of reaction in real time."

"How mean." Uta was smiling as he brought her the boxes. "Do you realize you're mean, Touka?"

"It's my specialty dish of hot bitch, Uta." She took the boxes and smiled back. "Nobody can compare. I'm just wicked evil all day every day."

"Would the hot bitch please model her mask for me?"

Touka groaned.

Uta held up his spindly, heavily tattooed hands in the form of prayer. "Please?"

" _Ugh_ ," she grumbled, setting the boxes down on a table. "Fine. Only because I'm excited to see it, though."

She tore open the box with her name on it, digging through the bubbles and wrappings and pulling out a satiny mask, so black it seemed to glint blue in the striking studio lights. The satin was thin, translucent, and beneath the shimmer of the gossamer fabric, enameled yellow stars freckled the smooth face. Its eyes were two crescent moons turned upon each other, and between them a waxy white moon. A gilded band of laurels that wrapped around the back of the mask and paused mid-forehead. The gossamer seemed to flow from the laurels, falling evenly like a smooth river.

"Oh," she exhaled.

"Are you going to put it on?"

The felt like she was holding something delicate. Was this mask made of glass? She knew that Uta sometimes pulled the Venetian method out of his ass, but this was something else entirely. It was simple in design, yet intricate in its creation. She pulled the mask around her head, noting that the laurel band stretched to meet the shape of her head. The inside of the mask was smooth and cool.

"How does it look…?" She tilted her head. The mask felt lighter than it was when it was on her face.

"It suits you." Uta was smiling, looking pleased with himself. "Well, it's no rabbit, but I think it does anyway."

"Can't wait to see what they call me," she murmured, turning her head from side to side to test how strong the laurels were.

"So you're expecting to get into more altercations with the CCG, despite being friends with a dove?" Uta looked at her with his dark, eerie eyes all aglow with curiosity. "Where did you go, Touka? What are you doing?"

"It's complicated." She pulled off the mask and stuffed it into the box she'd pulled it out of. "Thanks for everything, Uta. I'll get this to Kaneki, kay?"

And so she was off again.

She decided to walk to the park. It was actually really nice, once she actually got to it, with a swing set that created the illusion of a prettier time, where she could chase her brother around the chain links and tackle him into a hug. She set the box on the ground beside the swing, and she sat down. The park had three or four children running about a jungle gym. One was climbing atop a giant whale that gleamed in the midday sun.

There was something strange about being here. She was really close to the twentieth ward. Anyone could end up recognizing her. Why was she risking this?

Because Kaneki had asked her to?

She was growing tired of this game.

The worst part was, she hadn't even started yet.

Really she hadn't thought this through. There was a list in her pocket of the names of the higher ups in Aogiri. She'd deliberately avoided writing Ayato's name down. The CCG didn't need to know about him.

She would leave it in the whale. That was a practical choice.

"Touka?"

She leapt to her feet and whirled around. Standing directly behind her swing was a curious boy, headphones half hanging off his ears as he leaned forward.

She relaxed a little when she saw it was just Hide.

"It's just you," she murmured, pushing her hair out of her eye. She felt her feet stumble over one another. She sighed deeply. "I thought it was someone from school, or something."

"Your missing poster has come up a lot." Hide smiled sheepishly. "We had to put one in Anteiku. To make it less suspicious."

"Oh?" She grimaced. "Great. Um, how is that?"

"It's good." He smiled. "Hinami is good."

"Oh!" she gasped, nodding quickly. "Good. That's really good."

"Good."

"Ha ha." She rolled her eyes, and then rolled her head with them. "God. Sorry. I wasn't expecting to have to interact with you."

"You say that like it's a _chore_!" Hide laughed a booming laugh, and he rounded the swing set. "Touka. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine."

He nodded. He looked around, his hair reflecting the brilliant sunlight. He was blinding. And she felt small looking at him.

"I'm gonna head off to work soon." He walked backwards. He kept walking. She realized he wanted her to follow, so she scooped up her boxes and walked tentatively behind him. "But I came here. Just… I had a feeling. A good feeling."

"Do you come here a lot?"

"Whenever I need to really think." His back bumped up against the giant whale, and his smile was big and white and gleaming. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It feels like fate."

"There really is no such thing as fate," Touka laughed. Hide pouted at her.

"I disagree!" He lifted his chin up high. "What do you call Kaneki's date with Rize?"

"A terrible accident."

"Destiny!" He shook his head. "Think about it."

"I'm thinking." She hugged her boxes to her chest. "You're being a dork. There really is no such thing as fate."

"I can't believe that," Hide said calmly, "because I'm here, with you, against all odds. Don't you think that it's funny? A friendship like ours shouldn't exist. But we beat the odds, and that must be fate. Don't you think?"

He was saying these things, and they were falling out of her ears without properly getting processed. She wanted to be snide. _You think we're friends?_ But she couldn't manage to form the words. It was a frightening prospect.

Uta had told her she was mean, but was she cruel?

No. She didn't think so.

"A friendship like ours?" she asked in a low, bemused tone.

"Ghoul and human." He grinned wickedly, and then he hefted himself up on the whale's tail. "You let me into this world, you know. You can't take it all back now."

"Ugh." She watched him pull himself onto the back of the whale, and she shook her head. She kicked off the tail and landed easily onto its back, settling down beside him and setting the boxes between them. He stared at her with large eyes. "What?"

"You're so cool," he said goofily, a silly smile stretching on his lips.

"Oh my god." She pulled her knees up to her chin, and she wanted to bury her face in them. "Stop. Stop it. Are you ever for real?"

"I am always one hundred percent real." Hide winked. "The most real. Check it." He gentle poked her bicep. "Real!"

She wanted to push him off this goddamn whale.

"No, I mean it." She stared at him intently, watching his expression change. "Tell me if you're for real. You'll flirt with me nonstop, but what about me is so fucking appealing? And don't tell me I'm fucking pretty, man, I'll tear you apart."

"But you are pretty," Hide pointed out. She moved to smack him, but he held his hands up in defense. "Hey, I'm just laying down the truth! You're pretty. But… you're also way more than that. I don't know. Are you asking if I'd date you for real?"

She opened her mouth. And then she closed it.

He smiled. "I would," he told her gently. "Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you, Touka. But, also… you're the kind of girl that I'd bring home to disappoint my parents."

"Um." She was utterly at a loss. "Thank you. I think."

"It really is a compliment. You're cute, yeah, anyone can see that, but I'm pretty sure my whole family would hate your guts." He leaned his head back to look at the sky, which was hazy with grayish clouds. The sun was peeking through them, and once again he looked like light incarnate. "I think that's awesome. Maybe that's why I like you so much."

"Your family." She studied him closely, the way the sun seemed to drip on his skin and cause him to light up. "You don't live with them?"

"Nah." He laughed nervously, rubbing his messy hair. "It's complicated."

"You can tell me." She offered him a shrug. "It's not like I have anything better to do today." Well. She had a mission. But she had time.

"Well…" Hide glanced at her, and she realized he probably didn't know what he could actually tell her. Like he couldn't trust her fully. She supposed that was fair enough. "I guess… it began with my mom and dad. They got married, it was very big and very proper, and when I was born it was all a good time. Everything was good. And then it wasn't, I guess."

"Hm." She hugged her knees tighter to her chest. "Sounds like life."

"Life's got a way of fucking you up in ways that make you feel like half a person." He lifted his own knees, studying the sky thoughtfully. "Um. I guess you want… details?" He smiled at her. "Kaneki tells me I need to be more upfront about things. I don't think I've ever really explained this to anyone before."

"Not even Kaneki?"

"Kaneki lives in a bubble." Hide closed his eyes contentedly. "He can't see past his own problems, but he can't bear to burden anyone else with them, so he gets stuck. I thought about telling him these things, but he… had it a lot worse than me. I didn't want to make him feel bad because my dad worked too much, or that my mom kept pushing me to get involved in things my dad would hate, or that parents stopped loving each other, or that my parents fought over me like dogs ripping at the last piece of meat on a bone."

"Tell me about it," Touka demanded. Yes. She demanded it. She needed to hear his voice, because it drowned out the restless spirit inside Touka's head that was also demanding. It said that she had to go, and keep going, and never stop going. That this was all a mistake. That she was not good enough to help anyone. That she was weak. A coward. Ayato was right, wasn't he? She didn't want to believe any of it. So she let Hide take her away from here, from this moment of insufficiency.

Hide looked at her.

She thought that maybe, because of the way his eyes muddied, and his face fell, that he might have been looking at her truly for the first time.

What did he see?

She knew it would not be what he wanted.

"My parents do love me." Hide did not take his eyes off her. "I know I'm lucky, because I can say that. I know they love me, but they've always been bad at showing it. Like I said, my dad works a lot. I don't see him. I don't really want to, I guess, but… I think that's a result of resenting him for years and years of never being there. I don't know. He always had really high expectations for a stranger."

"That's sad." Touka only said it because she felt it was the polite thing to do. In truth, she only knew this pain in part. Her father had disappeared, but before that he'd been consistent and loving and she had never wanted for anything when with him. So they could not compare.

"My mother, she was always around. She was the one who raised me. I'm sure Kaneki met her at least a few times. He didn't totally live in a bubble, and he used to sleep over my house sometimes. When the divorce was happening, he couldn't so much. I still feel guilty about it."

"Why?"

"Because I let him down." He rested his cheek against his knee as he smiled at her. "I hate doing that."

"You really are for real right now, aren't you?" She watched him tiredly. "Why don't you tell the truth all the time?"

"Because I don't know how?" he offered. "This is just a fluke. I'm telling you this because you're sad, and I know you're sad. I guess I'd do just about anything to take some of that sadness away."

"That's… sweet." She found herself puzzled. "But you're not obligated to make me feel anything. We barely know each other."

"You're important," Hide said brightly. "So let me make you feel like it. Okay? Okay. So… right. Mom. She's off in Paris, I think. Or, er, maybe it's Switzerland now? Damn. I don't know." He stretched his legs out on the whale and leaned back. "Somewhere in Europe. My mom was really well off, you know? Like, this snobby rich bitch who doesn't have to work ever because she's made of money? I don't even know. My parents kind of just reek of old money, which is strange to think about. But they are. So what happened was that dad won me, technically, even though I'd been living with mom my whole entire life and barely knew him, and so mom split, but like… I don't want to live with my dad. I hate my dad sometimes. So basically the arrangement is that I get to live in one of his apartments rent free as long as he can check up on me whenever." Hide gave a cheerful shrug. "Lucky for me, he doesn't have the time. But it was still just dangerous enough that Hinami can't live with me."

"Oh." Touka's mouth dropped open. "Oh! That makes… a lot of sense. I get it now."

"That's just my reality." He nudged her gently. "Okay, your turn. Tell me the juicy secrets about your family."

"Um." Well! Shit. This was gonna be a downer. "Mom died young. Doves. Don't remember her too well, but I guess I kinda look like her. Who knows? Dad was nice. He made us be nice to people. He loved people. And people loved him." She closed her eyes. "And then they betrayed him. He died. Doves got him too, probably. We actually don't know. My brother still thinks he abandoned us, and I don't have the heart to tell him that our dad probably died the night he didn't come home. Maybe I should. Just to hurt him. He's an asshole, and I hate him, and he deserves it, right?"

When she took a breath, she found it shaky, so she stopped talking. They were silent for a while.

"Do you want the truth?" Hide asked. "Of why I act the way I do towards you?"

"Sure."

"I guess I just wanted to know why." Hide watched her as a painter might scrutinize a canvas. "Why you? Why is Kaneki so enamored with you?"

"He's not… enamored…"

"No, Touka. He is." Hide shook his head. "I've never seen Kaneki treat anyone the way he treats you. And it's not in the way that he was enamored with Rize, either. Compared to you, Rize was like a bad dream."

"Oh please." She sunk. "Everyone was in love with Rize. Hell, I was half in love with Rize. Don't flatter me, okay? It's not believable."

"It doesn't matter." Hide shook his head. "If Kaneki thinks you're the best thing in the world, chances are he will never stop. And honestly, I'm beginning to understand it. Touka… he sees something in you that is genuine. The one thing I know Kaneki and I have in common is that we are experts at hiding who we are and how we feel. But you?" He looked at her like she could, plausibly, cup her hands and catch the dripping sunlight in her palms. "You say what you mean, and you do what you want, and you're strong in spite of everything life throws at you. I think you're the kind of person Kaneki wants to be. No wonder he likes you so much."

She exhaled, covering her mouth with her knees. It was a strange thought. She didn't even like Kaneki that much.

But even now she found herself doubting that more and more.

When had that become a lie?

"Make him stop," she whispered. "I don't want anyone to rely on me for anything."

Too late for that. Holy shit, she was awful. Had she not thought about this when she'd decided to become Kaneki's goddamn spy?

"He's not relying on you for anything other than to stay alive." Hide watched her with his eyes like molten bronze. "You can do that, right?"

"God. I don't know, I hope so?" She scooted away from him. "Don't pressure me!"

Hide laughed, which was kind of satisfying. "You and I have got to make a difference." He looked strange now, distant in an unfathomable sort of way. Like he wasn't entirely sure where he wanted to be, but it wasn't here. "Touka, you should know… if anything bad happens at all, he _will_ blame himself."

"What?" She couldn't help but be absolutely incredulous. "Why?"

"We all have our weird habits. Kaneki's just happens to be an irrational fear of being hated. So he takes the load, whatever it is, and he bears it." Hide stared at Touka with large eyes. "Hey. Why did you run away?"

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a puff of air. She found herself cupping her hand over it and sinking forward. She wanted to mold herself into a ball. She wanted to become part of this odd blue sculpture. She wanted to disintegrate right here, right now.

The truth was, she didn't know why she'd done the things that she'd done.

Was that wrong? To be ignorant of oneself?

"I don't have to tell you anything," she snapped, moving to leap off the whale.

"That wasn't right," Hide gasped. "Wait! I made a mistake! That's not what I wanted to ask."

She paused for half a moment, her leg swung over the side of the sculpture. She glanced back at him.

"What I wanted to ask," he said softly, "was what would make you happy?"

"I don't know." She glared at him. "Who even knows that kind of shit? I don't know anything, okay? I don't know why I do the things I do, and I definitely don't know what I want or what makes me happy!"

Hide watched her. Her shouting did not seem to affect him. Instead, he smiled.

"Man," he laughed, rubbing the back of his head and ruffling his hair. "We're more alike than I thought."

She sat in utter shock, frozen with his words plucking the hair from her skin. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, and they all gathered inside her mouth, begging to be vomited with all her pent up emotions, all the things she'd drowned out or lost touch with in the span of days, weeks, months, _years_. Hide reminded her that she was not quite as hollow as she'd thought, and that scared her.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything," Hide admitted. "I just like talking to you. You seem like someone who doesn't gossip, so I feel like I can just keep talking around you. Is that okay?"

"No," she said firmly. "Stop doing it."

This was a total lie. She liked that he was talking to her.

To be honest… she hadn't had any real company for a week.

The anxiety of this mission, the knowledge that she would betray everyone she came in contact with at Aogiri, the fact that there was danger at every turn, made her want to tear her hair out.

She felt like she was losing her mind with all the cliffs and edges she had to deal with.

But Hide was… soft. Not in the way that Kaneki was soft. Kaneki was strange. He was like a wave of déjà vu, a dizzying sensation of wanting and wanting and wanting and ending up hollowed out by all the wants in all the world. Kaneki made her feel like she had something to prove. Hide made her feel like she'd done everything she possibly could to perfection, but somehow or another it had been too much, and it was so overwhelming. Kaneki was soft like smudged ink on a page. Hide was soft like heat haze, something there, something palpable, but when you reached out to touch it, it disappeared.

So Hide watched her. And maybe he was hurt by her words, and maybe he had a funny way of showing it, because he laughed at her, laughed like he could never laugh again, and she wished she could beat the shit out of him just this once, because it felt like the thing to do. You know? The thing to do was always to just beat the problems away.

But right now, she didn't know what to do.

"What are you laughing at?"

He stopped.

The look on his face told her.

 _He doesn't know_.

Yeah, okay. Maybe they had some things in common.

She exhaled sharply.

"Okay." She scooted closer and stuck her hand in her coat pocket. "Look. I actually have some stuff for Kaneki. Think you can get it to him safely?"

"I'd stake my life on it," Hide said brightly without missing a beat. "Let me have it."

She sighed. She pulled the folded scrap of paper out of her pocket and lifted Kaneki's box up. "Take this to him, and make sure no one else sees it. Got it?"

"I'm your delivery boy, Touka." He said _Touka-chan_ as though he had never known her name before, and was testing it tentatively. It sounded soft and feeble, testing, testing, one, two, three.

He took the box and paper from her hands.

She wanted to know more.

She wanted more than what she had.

What did she want?

She didn't even know.

* * *

He hadn't meant to run away.

Truly. Don't you believe it?

It wasn't like he wanted to make anyone worry.

But once you start walking and thinking and stopping and drinking it all in, things get muddied, and your pace speeds up. And maybe you're not walking anymore. Maybe you're running. And it's nothing new, so you don't think much of it until you're vomiting in a public toilet.

The vomiting was new. He didn't usually vomit when he had panic attacks.

 _Did I make myself throw up?_ He had to wonder about it as he heaved deep breaths on the grimy tile floor of a public transit bathroom. It smelled so thoroughly of urine, and of course he knew how dirty it was, but he couldn't get up. His knees felt weak. His chest had seized, and his eyes were stinging from the tears. It wasn't a big deal. This happened all the time.

But getting outed? That didn't happen all the time.

Getting outed to _Kaneki_. That was the worst.

No. Not even. The _worst_ was actually the fact that Kaneki had taken Mutsuki's file in the first place. And then hidden it. Because he read it, and he knew. He knew all the things Mutsuki had been trying so desperately to bury. His gender, his institutionalization, his awful "incidents" at the junior academy. Great. Just… perfect.

Now Kaneki was going to think he was a freak. A psychopath who couldn't even figure out what gender he wanted to be.

Gross. This was so gross. Mutsuki dry heaved, but he had nothing left to vomit, so he settled on spitting bile into the toilet. Of course it reeked. Everything about this bathroom stunk. But Mutsuki didn't have a sensitive nose, and he'd smelled worse things than a dingy bathroom clinging with the odor of dried piss and fresh puke.

Mutsuki had been trying really hard to hide it. It seemed like everyone had just been finding out. First Washuu Yoshitoki had all but broadcasted it, flaunting Mutsuki's file and deciding to keep it to himself. Mutsuki had been pleased— he'd thought that maybe that would be the last of it, that he was safe now! But nope. Nope, of course not.

Were things ever that simple?

If there was anything Mutsuki had learned, it was how to keep menstruation low key. He went through the motions, and hid it as best as he could from Kaneki. Miraculously, he hadn't found out that time. But of course someone else did.

Mutsuki didn't want to think about it. That Tsukiyama guy made him want to vomit all over again.

And then it just got _worse_ , because Hide had figured it out right after!

"Please don't cry, Mutsuki. That guy is an ass, and you don't have to be ashamed of who you are around us. Okay?"

And Mutsuki had frozen. His tears head been hot on his cheeks. All he could do was look up at Hide fearfully. He stood without any reservations, easygoing and bright with the sun as his own personal halo.

"Don't tell Kaneki."

Being accepted was tough work. It was like having a really ugly mark on your face and using a rusty nail to forcibly remove it.

You only really made the situation worse.

And now this.

How was he supposed to come back from this? He didn't know what to say. Because he didn't know what Kaneki would say. Sure, Hide had been all accepting and nice, but Mutsuki knew that was the polite thing to do, and that did not often reflect inner feelings. Mutsuki had to live with Kaneki. This would be so awkward, and none of the atmosphere would be the same, and he would be treated differently because he was trans, and he just wanted it to stop. To end.

He wanted to be normal.

Yeah. That was an awful thing to think. But it was true. He didn't know how else to describe this feeling, but he knew things would be different if he was happy with what he'd been given.

But nope. He wasn't. He wasn't happy, and he would never be happy, and the only time he ever felt anything close to happy was when he was being himself. Him.

But now every day would be a reminder of everything he lacked. His personality would never be conventionally masculine. Neither would his features. He looked boyish, sure, but the icky thing about it was that he had a weird softness to his face that made him look delicate. Some people might call it pretty. He thought those people needed to reevaluate their life choices and maybe stay a good twenty feet in the opposite direction with their backs turned and their hands over their eyes. But that was just him.

He wiped his mouth slowly, and it came back slobbery. Well. That was really gross.

Honestly, he didn't feel like he was ready to get up off the floor, but the smells were starting to get to his head, and he kind of thought he might pass out. Which was bad. Anything could happen if he was passed out. He had to move now.

So he got up, a wave of vertigo hitting him like a bullet through the spine, and he shouldered the stall hard. He took deep breaths, kicking the toilet to flush it. His forehead was sweaty, and he pressed a cool hand beneath his messy bangs. The back of his throat burned from the vomit. He wanted to groan, but he'd heard the door open a few minutes before that, and he didn't remember hearing anyone leave, so he was self-conscious. He probably would have been anxious to the point where he couldn't vomit, but he had no way of stopping it, so it just kept pouring out. That was embarrassing.

Mutsuki took a deep breath. It tasted awful. His own breath was rancid, and he could only shudder in disgust.

He unlocked the stall and gingerly pulled it open. He took a step out of it, and looked up.

There was a wave of déjà vu.

" _Bonjour_ ," Tsukiyama Shuu greeted.

Now, Mutsuki imagined a few different ways this could go down.

One, he could turn around and lock himself back in the stall. He felt the urge to vomit again, so it wasn't a bad plan. Two, he could make a snarky comment about how creepy this guy was and walk out. Or three, Mutsuki could just stand there like an idiot, his mouth open and his eyes wide, and just do nothing about this development.

Can you guess what he did?

Yeah. He thought he was an idiot too.

"Please tell me you remember me." Tsukiyama's brow knitted together worriedly, and he leaned forward, pressing his hands together as though in prayer. "Please don't think too badly of me. I don't know what your friend told you, but—"

"You're a ghoul," Mutsuki cut in sharply.

Tsukiyama blinked. He straightened up abruptly, as though shocked upright. His mouth parted into a solid O, and then it morphed into a smirk.

"I suppose so," he said. "It's not really a secret. But what does that make you?"

"Not interested in you." When Mutsuki moved, he knew he had two choices. The door, which was the smart choice, or the sinks, which was the comfortable choice. He wanted to escape, but he also wanted to get the taste and stench of vomit out of his mouth. What was he supposed to choose? He gripped the hem of his shirt nervously. He hadn't worn a coat. He'd run out of the apartment too quickly.

In his defense, he'd planned on coming right back.

But then he hadn't. Why was that?

Because he was dumb. Dumb and blinded by his own fear. That was why.

And even still, even now, he told himself he'd head back in a few minutes. Or maybe an hour. Or two.

Just let it all sink in. Cool down.

But the longer he stayed away, the worse it would get. He knew that. He wasn't stupid.

Mutsuki walked very slowly to the sink. He flicked it on. The water gathered in his palm. As he poured it into his mouth, he was keenly aware of Tsukiyama's eyes glued to his shoulders and neck and face.

What Mutsuki wouldn't give to be anywhere else but here right now.

"That was a little rude," Tsukiyama pointed out.

And just like that, Mutsuki was overcome with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, gripping the stained, graffitied ledge of the sink until his knuckles turned white.

Tsukiyama continued to stare at him. He was simultaneously flushing and blanching, if you could believe it. He felt hot, like his clothes were too warm and too tight, but when he looked at his reflection it was grossly pale. Especially for him. Not to mention the space around his eyelid looked yellowed, like an old bruise. It was just his insomnia, but his appearance had become so shabby and sunken in the matter of minutes, like years of wear had finally caught up with it.

Beautiful. This was amazing. Everything was great.

"You seem upset." Tsukiyama pushed off the sink a yard or so away and stepped closer. "Need a hand?"

"No."

"You're sick."

"I'm fine."

"Now, now!" Tsukiyama waggled his finger, which Mutsuki thought was annoying, and he wanted to say so, but he didn't want to be any ruder than he already was so he just frowned at his reflection some more. "I don't think vomiting excessively into a toilet all alone in the bathroom of a subway constitutes as fine. Do you?"

"Just leave me alone. Please." Mutsuki drew a cool, wet hand down his face. "I… don't want to sound rude, but you freak me out, and I want to be alone right now."

"You didn't think that sounded rude?"

Mutsuki winced.

Oh man.

"What do you want?" he sighed.

"Just for you to answer my question?" Tsukiyama held up his hands in surrender. "What are you?"

Mutsuki shifted uncomfortably, thinking of the last time they'd met.

This man's voice rung inside his head, and another bout of nausea struck him.

" _Oh my, what's this? So you're a girl, hm_?"

"I thought I already established," Mutsuki whispered, his face flooding in shame, "that I'm a boy."

"Oh." Tsukiyama's whole atmosphere changed. He seemed almost remorseful, which should have been satisfying, but instead was just another annoying thing on top of the most annoying man on the planet. Mutsuki couldn't even tell how dangerous this man was because he was so ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I should have specified. I understand now, that you're a boy. It was my mistake earlier, and I do sincerely apologize for it."

"Why don't I buy that?" Mutsuki took a deep breath. He was being an asshole about this. He shouldn't be so mean. Tsukiyama had never really done anything wrong except approach him, really. But then Mutsuki remembered when he'd been grabbed in the bathroom at Kamii, and he wanted to run all over again.

"I'll admit," Tsukiyama said thoughtfully, cupping his chin. "I find it difficult to understand, but I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of. This is a modern world. You seem to be a very modern man."

"Okay, I have to go." Mutsuki turned around.

"Would you explain?" Tsukiyama called. "Tell me more about being trans! I want to understand it."

 _Do you really, though?_ Mutsuki bit his lip. He had to leave. He really had to just run away, and be smart.

He'd fallen for this before. This trick, a sympathetic adult trying to understand, trying to help.

And then he cuts you open, and you have to crawl away.

One of the Scorpion daggers was sheathed at the small of his back. The other he'd left at the apartment.

"Tsukiyama," Mutsuki sighed, turning around very slowly. "I… I guess it's presumptuous to say, but I know you don't actually care. Please. It's been a bad day, and I don't want to talk about it."

"And you want me to leave you alone?"

"That… would be nice."

Tsukiyama stood with a furrowed brow and a cupped chin, as though he really could not figure out why the hell Mutsuki wanted him to back off.

"Okay," Mutsuki said waving quickly. He noticed how Tsukiyama perked up. "Listen, I'm going to tell you the truth. Okay? Um… honestly, Tsukiyama, you're kind of a stalker, and you're really nosy, and I don't actually like talking about my gender, _especially_ not to creepy strangers who probably want to eat me." Mutsuki shook his head. "Please stop following me."

"Why would I want to eat you?" Tsukiyama laughed. "Are you not technically a ghoul?"

"I…" Mutsuki blinked. He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what I am."

"Is Kaneki the same?" Tsukiyama whistled. "No, he can't be. He's definitely more ghoul than human."

"What?"

"Mm, yeah." Tsukiyama hummed as he looked up at the ceiling. "He's a little spooky, hm? He's very threatening, don't you think? Which is funny. He doesn't seem the type."

"Ah…" Mutsuki didn't want to think of Kaneki as scary. He did not want to think of Kaneki as scary!

This was bad. This was bad. This was bad.

Mutsuki felt overwhelmed again. He took a deep breath. No. He couldn't have another panic attack. He just had to take deep breaths. It was okay. It was okay.

And then he was heaving deep breaths against the graffitied bathroom sink. Doing this in front of Tsukiyama was beyond humiliating. It was _terrifying._ He didn't know what to do, and he realized he was crying before he could stop it, and he didn't know how to make it stop.

Most of all, he wished Tsukiyama would just go away. Him being here made it ten times worse.

When his breathing became regular, and his body uncoiled from the tension that had seized his muscles, he realized how shaky and weak he'd become.

If Tsukiyama wanted to kill him, Mutsuki would not be able to get away easily.

Not to say that he couldn't get away. Mutsuki wasn't sure, but if he really want to survive it'd be manageable.

He sunk to his knees, his arms draped over the sink as he took deep, shaky breaths.

 _I'm okay, it's okay, everything is okay,_ he told himself. _Kaneki is a good person. This was a misunderstanding. He won't hurt me._

But it didn't make the fear go away.

Mutsuki jumped. Something was dropped onto his shoulders abruptly, and he realized quickly by the nauseating scent of expensive cologne that it was Tsukiyama's blazer.

"Deep breaths," Tsukiyama advised. He reached out, his fingers stroking Mutsuki's hair, and Mutsuki lurched back. "Ah, was that not right? I thought touch helped."

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" Mutsuki yanked the blazer tighter around himself. "No! Definitely not! Don't touch someone! Who's having! A panic attack! Ever!"

"It's always helped me before."

"Don't." Mutsuki sucked in a great gulp of air, and he shuddered. "No. Don't do it. Ever. Bad idea."

"What should I do, then?"

"Stay… away…" Mutsuki shook his head.

"That just sounds impractical. You're clearly unable to get up."

"That's fine. I don't care. Stay back. Like." He sucked in a breath, and blinked the tears from his eyes rapidly. "Um. Other side of the room back. Or locked in a stall. Back. Or. Something. Anything."

Tsukiyama let his hands go up, and he stood, backing away slowly. Mutsuki exhaled a great sigh of relief. While he cooled down, he tried to think about what had triggered this. It made him anxious, so he stopped.

Maybe he should just go home.

Ah. One problem.

"Um… Tsukiyama…?" Mutsuki found himself half under the sink, his knees wobbling feebly. He was definitely not ready to go anywhere. Two panic attacks so close together, especially on an empty stomach, especially after walking so far for so long, especially after vomiting. He was totally spent.

Without another word between them, Tsukiyama, who did not need any prompting, assisted Mutsuki by throwing one arm over his shoulder and hefting him to his feet.

"Thanks," Mutsuki mumbled.

"This was unexpected," Tsukiyama admitted.

"Please… just help me to the door. I can make it onto the subway."

"I have a car." Tsukiyama offered it with a shocking amount of kindness to his tone. "If it's home you want, I can take you there."

Mutsuki was smart. He knew. He knew, he knew, he knew.

He was living on this cycle of despair that was doomed to repeat.

But he was tired. And he was sick. And he wanted to just… see this through… because he had been happy for the first time in a very long time. And now he was doubting.

He'd doubted Kaneki. And now he would probably pay for that.

Maybe that was for the best?

Maybe he didn't really believe that, but he'd believe anything if it meant getting out of this bathroom.

"Okay," Mutsuki agreed in total resignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filatim [adv].  
> thread by thread.


	18. oscillum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u know what's great about being on break??? i write things fast. really fast. amazing.

Kaneki was going absolutely fucking insane.

Okay. Not really.

He knew what it was really like to fling off the wire, and frankly, he didn't want to slip up again. He'd been good. He had no real reason to be filled with hollowing hatred and rage.

However, today, not unlike other days where he'd let himself fall into a sleepy rage, he felt the need to become stronger.

He should never have stolen that file.

Who did that? Who took a kid's file and then hid it without telling them? Like, Kaneki knew he'd fucked up. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted to apologize to Mutsuki. But Mutsuki was gone. And Kaneki knew that whatever happened now would be all his fault.

This was a solemn reminder of when Hinami had run off and gotten caught by Mado. He could not possibly blame Mutsuki for leaving, but he felt a distinct throttle of shock and panic, like he was already too fucking late.

There was no real way to know where Mutsuki had gone. He'd left no trace, no way of contact. He was simply a thought drifting off into obscurity, and Kaneki feared like he feared all things, that Mutsuki would not come back. For reasons that could only be pinned to Kaneki's mindlessness, to his goddamn inability to take a fucking hint. How had he not noticed? How had he let Mutsuki be consumed by his doubts?

 _All I've ever been good at is pushing people away,_ he thought dimly. _All I'm ever good for is making the people I care about hurt._

It wasn't a fair assessment to himself or to those around him, and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. He felt this way, consistently, unendingly, as though he was in a cycle of destruction done in by his own hand.

In all the plays, in all the epic poems, in all of history, it seemed that the only flaw a tragic hero could have was hubris.

But Kaneki Ken had nothing to be proud of.

"You know we'll find him eventually," Amon said, glancing at him from the driver's seat. Kaneki didn't reply. The panic had settled in, of course, and now he was just wallowing in it. He didn't know what to do or where to go or how to even begin looking for a boy who could be anywhere in the city by now.

The colors of the world were being sucked out. He could hear god's mouth against the sky, slurping up every last drop of baby blue and emerald green and dusty yellow. The city was being drained of life, clouds bumping along one another to fray the edges of the saturated world and make all the color fall right out.

He let his forehead bump up against the window as the first few drops of rain struck it. The skyscrapers were towering over him like bulky gray prisons, and he wondered if Mutsuki was in one of those buildings.

Maybe at the top of one.

 _Stop,_ he told himself sharply. _You're awful. Disgusting. Stop projecting yourself onto him. Stop it._

But it was so hard!

Especially when Mutsuki reminded him so much of himself.

"Kaneki."

He closed his eyes.

This was bad. This was bad. This was so fucking bad.

And it was hard, too. It was so hard.

To pretend like he knew what he was doing.

"Hey." Amon's hand stretched over the seat, and Kaneki couldn't even flinch when he clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll find him. Don't worry."

Kaneki opened his eyes.

_What if I killed him?_

He wanted to say what he wanted to mean.

Instead he just closed up.

He shrugged Amon's hand off, and he nodded. Nodded. Nodded.

Nodded.

Away and away and away.

Ah. What was it about suicides and literature?

"What do you know," Kaneki asked, dragging his finger along the condensation on the glass of the window, "about _Hamlet_?"

"Well, I've read it," Amon said. "Of course I've read it. To be or not to be, and all that. Why?"

"Are you Christian?"

Amon bristled. Kaneki noted this with great interest, his mind ticking off the strange movement of his shoulders as he shifted in his seat, his adam's apple bobbing and his eyes flicking aside. A sore topic, to be sure.

"Not really, no."

"But you wear a crucifix," Kaneki pointed out. He didn't point to it— he didn't want to be rude.

"It's nothing. Just a reminder. It means nothing to me."

Kaneki smiled thinly. "Really?" he asked. "It wasn't hard to cast off your religion like that?"

"It's easy to throw away something that has given you nothing but grief."

Kaneki watched him, his forehead still resting against the cool glass.

"You don't need a memento to remind you of grief, Amon," he said. "People don't wear their burdens around their necks so that they remember that they have burdens. Nobody needs to be reminded. It's just there."

"Well I do," Amon snapped. Kaneki watched him dully, and he seemed to slowly relax as the silence dripped down in the space between them, smothering the air and stifling them. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I believe in, Kaneki. It's a sore subject."

"I guess it's my fault for pushing," Kaneki admitted. "Anyway, you're familiar with Christianity at least?"

"Yes, Christianity and I are well acquainted. Why?"

"Hamlet."

"Yes. Not really the pinnacle of Christian worship."

"In Christianity, suicide is a huge taboo," Kaneki said, "because Christians believe— believed?— that you won't go to heaven if you kill yourself. But then Hamlet comes along and gives this huge long speech about just… the thought, the mere _idea_ of taking your own life. And it doesn't seem so scary when he says it, does it?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," he sighed, dotting eyes into the haphazard skull he'd sketched into the window, "sometimes the idea of nothing beyond what we have is the most tempting option."

"Mutsuki isn't suicidal."

Kaneki bit his tongue. He was going to say, _Did you not read his file_? But because Kaneki knew it was wrong to judge, he also knew he should keep his mouth shut.

"Maybe not." Kaneki struck a line through the skull grinning on the window besides his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm paranoid. He's fine, right? He's totally fine."

"Let's focus on the task at hand, okay, Kaneki?"

It was almost nightfall. The skyline was stuck in a grayish interlude from where god had inhaled the colors of day like a drag on a cigarette. When would god spit it all back out again in a great burst of smoke?

"It's getting dark." He straightened up suddenly. "Amon, I really don't like the idea of him being out by himself. He can't use his kagune."

"Mutsuki can still fight without a kagune." Amon glanced at Kaneki sharply. "Remember. He is a ghoul investigator. He's stronger than you think he is."

"He is fifteen years old, and being strong doesn't mean being strong _enough_."

Kaneki's phone began to buzz.

"We'll find him, Kaneki."

The more he said it, the more it sounded like a lie.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. It seemed to brighten the whole car as he read the text message from Hide.

_I have something for you ;)_

It took a fraction of a second for Kaneki to process these words.

"Amon!" Kaneki gasped. "Drive me to Anteiku!"

Could Mutsuki have gone to Hide? Was that what this was about?

God, Kaneki prayed. He prayed to any god that would listen that that was the case. That it was true.

Amon pressed harder on the gas, taking extreme measures to go faster in the thrum of Tokyo traffic. Everybody had a place to go in the city, but nothing seemed more important than this car reaching Mutsuki.

How many mistakes could Kaneki make in this timeline before everything collapsed?

"Is he here?" Amon asked, pulling up in front of Anteiku. He had to double park, which made him clearly uncomfortable. "Listen, I'm going to go find a real parking spot. Do you want to—?"

Kaneki had already leapt out of the car.

"Hide!" Kaneki burst through the door, skidding to a stop in the middle of the coffee shop. The usual euphoria that came with the distinct smell of Anteiku roared into life. His heart was beating hard, and he dropped his briefcase onto the counter. Hide looked at it, and then at Kaneki.

"You know," Hide remarked, "that outfit is pretty bad for business."

"Hide," Kaneki gasped, leaning forward and searching Hide's eyes. "Is Mutsuki here?"

It was odd to see Hide's face fall. The only thing comparable to the sight of it was as though approaching the Colossus of Rhodes, and just as the ship was about to pass through, a wonder of the world cracked and crumbled and sank before him.

"Did something happen?" Hide asked cautiously.

Kaneki let out a sharp breath, feeling all his energy fizzle out. He dropped into a chair and let his head fall slowing into his hands.

"I think I fucked up," he whispered. "I think I really fucked up, Hide."

"It's not your fault, Kaneki."

"You don't know that. You don't know." He took a deep, shaky breath. "I wanted him to trust me, but I totally fucked up. I'm responsible for him. I'm responsible for anything that happens to him."

"Kaneki, deep breaths!" Hide rounded the counter and jumped into the chair beside him, resting a hand on Kaneki's back. "Breathe, dude! Tell me what happened, okay?"

Kaneki didn't want to admit to his mistakes, but it was hard not to.

And plus, maybe Hide would know how to handle this.

"I stole Mutsuki's file a little while ago," Kaneki sighed, exhaling softly. "I… I didn't even read it, I just took it and… I put it away. I didn't tell Mutsuki because I just… I don't know. It slipped my mind. But today he found it, and now he's gone, and I don't know where he is."

There was a sharp whistle of breath that escaped between Hide's teeth. He'd averted his eyes sharply, sinking into his chair as he processed Kaneki's explanation.

"So he assumed you'd already read it and ran away." Hide stuck his thumbnail between his teeth, as though his hand might hide his nervous smile. "Shit, man."

"Yeah!" Kaneki stared at Hide intently. "I'm freaking out. This is definitely my fault."

"When did he leave?"

"I don't know? I wasn't home, but he didn't show up to work or to his doctor's appointment this morning."

"Kaneki, it's like almost five."

"I know that!" Kaneki winced. "That's exactly why I'm worried. I… I don't know what to do. I don't know how to be responsible for another person, Hide."

"It's okay."

"No it's not?" Kaneki held his forehead beneath his bangs, and the coolness of his fingers soothed him. "It's really not. I feel like I betrayed him, and I don't know how to fix that."

"He won't hate you for this, you know." Hide spoke with such certainty that Kaneki had to strain himself to _not_ believe him. "Sure, he's probably angry right now. Maybe he's even just scared. Kaneki, I don't know Mutsuki that well, but I do know that there's a reason why he's so nervous. He deserves privacy, and breaching that… would make anyone want to be alone for a while."

"Are you saying I should stop looking for him?" He didn't want to do that.

"No," Hide said, taking his shoulder and squeezing it. "I'm saying that Mutsuki's reaction was natural, and maybe you shouldn't be so worried. It might be good for him to have some space. To take a breather."

"It's been hours."

"Sometimes you need hours to sort your shit out," Hide offered, holding up his hands as though in surrender. "Kaneki, you of all people should know that."

And there it was.

The hard, cold truth.

"I don't want Mutsuki to be like me," Kaneki said.

"I think it's a little late for that, bro," Hide laughed.

"No." Kaneki's fingernails dug into his palm. Maybe if he dug them in hard enough, his hands would stop shaking. "No. You don't get it. I would… give anything… for him to not end up like me."

Hide sat quietly beside him. He lowered his head. And in between them there was a stark division. Light and dark, love and hate, day and night. They were struggling with the bounds of their own understandings, if Kaneki could grasp the inner workings of Hide's brain, if Hide could see the complexities of Kaneki's pain.

And it felt like it was all for nothing.

"There's no one in the world better than you," Hide said suddenly.

"Lies don't make me feel better, Hide."

"If it comes from the heart, it's not a lie." Hide shot him a small smile, and he jumped off the chair. "No worries, though. You'll find him. I have faith in you."

_Maybe you shouldn't._

Kaneki was overwhelmed by the sudden taste of blood in his mouth, so vivid and sweet that he touched his lips to test it. But his fingers came back clean, and the dryness of his throat reminded him that he had not eaten in weeks. His ribs were making mountain ranges out of his wan skin.

"Anyways, here's what I've got for you." Hide lifted a box from behind the counter and pushed it toward Kaneki. "Special delivery from a cute secret admirer."

"That better not mean you," Kaneki murmured, plucking up the note from on top of the box.

He recognized the scratchy handwriting almost immediately upon looking at the hastily folded scrap. So he leaned forward excitedly, soaking in the quick, uneven strokes of Touka's scrawled characters. These were names. Names that he knew, names that would sink into his skin and be branded on his bones long after he'd decomposed.

Names that he could tell Yoshitoki without sounded suspicious.

"You should go upstairs," Hide advised. "Hang out with Hina for a bit."

Kaneki tore his eyes from the paper, his eyes widening a bit. "But… Amon…"

"I'll take care of him." Hide shot Kaneki a brilliant smile. "No sweat. Just, y'know. Let Hina know nobody's forgotten about her."

Kaneki didn't need to be told twice.

When he got to Touka's door, he knocked once. When no one immediately answered, he knocked again. When there was still no answer, he rubbed the back of his neck, and he sighed.

"Hinami," he called. "It's me. It's Kaneki. Please let me in."

It was all so overwhelmingly silent after that. Kaneki grew nervous, like he had done something gravely wrong, and he couldn't remedy it quick enough. Being in Hinami's bad favors was a nightmare.

But then the door swung open.

"Kaneki…?" She looked sad and small and sleepy. Her hair was all askew, black and shiny and uneven from where Touka had shorn it. Kaneki smiled fondly.

"Hey," he said. "You okay?"

She nodded mutely. She nodded and nodded and nodded.

And then she stopped nodding.

She stared vacantly at his face. Her eyes were glassy and distant.

"Big sis isn't here now."

Those words were so filled with resignation, and it broke his heart.

"I… I know, Hinami." He offered a gentle smile. "Can I come in?"

"Yes," she said without missing a beat. When she stepped aside, her feet dragged against the wooden floor. "If you want to."

Kaneki entered, and Touka's scent hit him so hard his throat closed up.

It wasn't like she was dead or anything. But she was so far out of reach, and he just wanted to have the _option_ to have her close. Being away from her was only painful when he knew he couldn't change his mind at a moment's notice and go see her. It was so selfish, because he now knew exactly how Touka had felt when he'd left her that day, in a reality that seemed to no longer exist.

If he could go back, if he could tell the Touka who knew him, who loved him, that he took it all back, would she accept that?

He should never have left her.

He should never have let her leave.

"You must be lonely," Kaneki murmured, "up here all by yourself."

"Big brother keeps me company." Hinami offered a tiny shrug, and a smile that did not reach her eyes. It took Kaneki a solid minute to realize she was talking about Hide, and it made him sad. "It only really gets lonely at night, I guess, when I have to sleep."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

He wanted to say what was on his mind. That he'd failed to save her mother twice, that he'd sent Touka off to what could possibly be her demise with espionage work, that he couldn't be here for her like Hide was now because he'd seen the future and he had wrecked it all a hundred times over.

"Your hair is different," Kaneki remarked.

Hinami hummed, pulling at a lock of black hair and glancing at it. Her bangs were so familiarly uneven. "Big sis cut it for me," she explained. "While she was still here."

"It's a little uneven," he said. "Would you like me to fix it?"

Hinami's face lit up, and for the first time since she'd opened the door, she seemed to look a little bit like herself.

The truth was, he knew he couldn't mend the gap he'd made between himself and everyone else. What was so dissatisfying about all his fuck ups was that he had done nothing but stretch his relationships so thin that he'd become nothing but a mere acquaintance to everyone he loved. Seeing Hinami here, like this, so distant and shaken and beyond herself that she knew she could not be herself around him, it made him want to cry.

He realized very quickly that he really was crying.

Hinami, who'd been admiring her new bob in the mirror, leaned over the sink to look at him.

"Kaneki?"

He swiped his eyes furiously with the pad of his thumb.

"So you like the haircut?" he asked, his voice slightly strained against the tightness of his throat.

"I love it." She rocked back on her heels and tilted her head. Black hair slipped gingerly against her rosy cheeks. "We could be siblings now, couldn't we? We look enough alike."

It hurt. This feeling of what had been and what might have been and what would never be.

"We could be siblings," Kaneki agreed wistfully, "in another life."

She stood and watched him, her feet bare against the cool tile. Touka's mark was left upon the bathroom in the way the colors seemed to cool his senses, dial down his stress and remind him who he was and why he was here. He could smell her here, the mix of lavender and sea salt. It was the smell of her hair. The smell of her skin.

"Why did you go to the doves?" Hinami asked suddenly. She did not look at him, but rather, toed the tile, her foot crooked. "You didn't have to. You know that, right? You didn't have to. Anteiku would have helped you."

"Anteiku helps everyone," Kaneki sighed. "I guess… I just thought, who's going to help Anteiku? I don't know, Hinami. It was just a bad idea. I'm just made up of bad ideas upon bad ideas."

"That's not true," she said, raising her eyes. They were huge and watery, beseeching in a way that made him feel like he'd been gutted and he had to struggle to hold himself together. She had an intelligent gaze, so intent and knowing that he wondered if she saw right through him. If she knew what he had done and what he was trying to do.

She'd always been too smart.

Too smart for a world that could not feed her thirst for knowledge.

"It's true enough." Kaneki tore his eyes from hers.

There was something familiar here.

The way she looked at him. The way she made him feel like he needed to take the whole entire world and lift it up on his shoulders so she could pass through it unscathed.

Ah.

He realized now that when he looked at Hinami, it was the same as when he looked at Mutsuki.

All he wanted was to keep these kids safe.

And all he did was hurt them.

His phone buzzed. He checked it quickly, and was relieved to find it was only Hide telling him that Amon had gone on without him. Apparently he was going the headquarters for whatever reason.

"I have to go, Hinami."

"Okay." She didn't even fight it. She'd resigned herself to the idea of him leaving— perhaps before he'd even arrived. Perhaps she had a preconception of his existence, presuming that he existed like all others in her life— just so that he could leave her in the end.

He wished he could stay here forever.

Live in a single moment—wouldn't that just be beautiful?

He wanted to go on and on and on and let the happy moments repeat so that there would never be a bad one.

But in reality, happy moments ended. And between the brief flickers of happiness were grand hollows of empty spaces were the happiness threw itself to die quickly.

"Are you happy, Hinami?" Kaneki asked at the door.

She looked at him. She saw him, and maybe she saw through him.

"I don't know," she replied, "why I shouldn't be. I have people who care about me, still, in spite of everything. That should be enough. Shouldn't it?"

"You're saying you should be happy."

She nodded. She nodded, and she stopped, and she looked away.

"Thank you for visiting," she murmured.

He wanted to express that he was sad too. That he felt the emptiness here, that he wanted to fill it up with life again, but he knew and she knew that the only way that could be done was to return Touka to her home.

And right now, that was simply impossible.

"Goodbye, Hinami."

"Bye bye," she said shyly, waving at him as he turned away. She didn't even meet his eye.

What a rift a little time and a little space and a little change had caused.

So Kaneki left feeling hollower than he had before. Maybe this was an apt punishment for meddling with time.

To lose all the things that he loved, not with any sort of dramatics but with the soft nothings of two people sitting in a quiet room.

"Took your sweet jolly time," Hide teased when Kaneki finally emerged from upstairs. Kaneki glanced at him wearily, and he smiled. Hide smiled back. "What's wrong?"

"Mutsuki's still missing."

"Amon said to check your apartment again. Maybe he's back. Or maybe there's something you missed."

"I totally betrayed his trust, Hide," Kaneki said dully. "If he never came back, I wouldn't blame him."

"Don't be so fucking dramatic, man." Hide scoffed, and he rolled up his rag and whipped the air above Kaneki's head. Kaneki dodged it easily, shooting Hide a disgruntled look. "You need to chill out and stop making this about you. Okay? This is all about Mutsuki, how Mutsuki feels, what Mutsuki wants. If he's back, great. Talk it out. If he's gone, he deserves his space. Everybody wants to run away sometimes."

"And you know who actually does it?" Kaneki smiled, and it felt sharp and thin like a razor slashing open his lips. "People who have been fucked up, and are fucked up now too, so they need to get away and find a place to fuck themselves up some more, and maybe, _hopefully_ , take someone with them."

"Sounds about right." Hide matched his smile, and he leaned over the counter, resting his elbows on the table. "Wanna talk about it, buddy?"

"Not really."

"Then stop making it about you."

Kaneki sighed. Hide was usually right about these things, but something just didn't feel right.

"You're right," Kaneki said. "It's always about me. I never pay attention. I should have seen this coming, right?" He was still holding the box. Touka's note. He was still grasping it for dear life, because maybe it would make this better. "You told me to pay more attention to Mutsuki. You told me. You warned me. But I didn't listen. I don't know how to make this right, because I don't know how to be responsible for anyone, not even myself."

"Now that's not true." Hide winced, and he glanced around the café. It wasn't quite dead, and a customer or two glanced at them curiously. "I didn't mean blame yourself, man."

"I want to be blamed."

"Tone it down, you goddamn masochist," Hide said gently. "Everyone has problems. Not just you. You don't need to take the blame for someone else's issues. You just need to fucking realize that everyone's got something that they're ashamed of. They're not alone, and neither are you, so stop beating yourself up over it and do something about it!"

Kaneki stood and stared, the words colliding with his chest and pounding viciously upon his ribs, as frequent and furious as his heartbeat.

"I'm _trying_ ," Kaneki gasped.

"I know you are." Hide stared into his eyes, and Kaneki could see that his crooked smile did not, could not reach them. "But do us all a favor, okay? Give it a rest. You're just one guy, and no matter how much you want to bear it all alone, you know you can't."

"I can try."

"Bad idea."

"You don't know that." Kaneki hugged the box to his chest. "You don't know anything."

"I know you," Hide offered. "Isn't that enough?"

Kaneki chewed on his lower lip, trying to decide what to say next. He didn't want to get angry at Hide, but the truth was that he couldn't stand this. He didn't want to fight, and he didn't want to win. All he wanted was to find Mutsuki. The damage he'd done could not be undone, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Mutsuki alone. Not like this.

Not like this.

"Right now, Hide," Kaneki said, "knowing me is just bad luck. What I need is someone who knows Mutsuki."

Hide looked at him, and he laughed, bracing his arms against the counter and letting his head fall with the beat of his laughter.

"Stop laughing." Kaneki had averted his gaze. He felt the vibrations of Hide's laughter in his bones. "What are you laughing for? Stop it."

"I'm laughing at you," Hide gasped, raising his head and grinning. "You're an idiot, y'know that? A real dummy."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize this. In fact, Kaneki was sure that he'd been told he was a dumbass a hundred times over. This was not unwarranted. He really did deserve it.

"I guess I deserve that," he admitted.

"You do."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Hide said. "Just understand that you aren't alone. That you don't have to be alone."

"I'm sorry," Kaneki repeated.

Hide straightened up. His spine seemed to snap into place, forcing him upright and at attention like he had been told the date of a funeral. When Kaneki looked into his eyes, he saw only murky depths, brown and endless like a pond covered with dead leaves. He had something to say. He always had something to say.

Why did he never say what was on his mind?

Maybe they were both fools. Tools to a fate of a cruel god's design.

So Kaneki turned away, and he walked out the door.

Because whatever Hide was going to say, it wasn't what he really wanted to say.

Maybe it mattered. Maybe it didn't.

He could only let his feet guide him home. If he stopped, if he stumbled, if he even thought about how much he was breathing, then he might never get up, he might never start again. It was scary to think how his whole life hung in the balance of his unbalanced moods.

Touka's note was fluttering under his thumb. He had to get it to Yoshitoki, so that this alliance could be fully formed and operational. Kaneki also thought about maybe trying to convince him to get a lawyer involved. A legally binding contract officiating Touka's immunity from the CCG would be really nice to have.

As he walked, the black sky seemed to open up for him, and between the smog and fog and clouds and light pollution, he saw the moon on the horizon. Between the gaps in the buildings, huge and waxy and yawning its way up above the city. It was beautiful enough to actually slow his steps, his eyes growing wide in awe of it.

There was still a romantic in him, buried beneath the cynic and the stoic and the manic.

And then the moon was eclipsed by the stretch of skyscrapers, and he remembered that he was not living in a romantic's world with trees that whispered and houses that creaked. He lived where the very ground thrummed, where the buildings were always alive and electric, where being alone was impossible and yet everyone seemed to feel lonely.

Modernists killed the romantics and kicked them into a manhole instead of cutting them up and stuffing them beneath the floorboards.

He found himself exhausted by the time he reached his apartment building. Every step was a chore, and he was tired of this.

If Mutsuki happened to be there when he walked in, what would he say?

 _I'm sorry,_ or, _I didn't know_ , or, _I wouldn't judge you for who you are, I couldn't, I can't, Mutsuki, please, how could I ever judge, everyone wants to be accepted_ , or maybe simply just _why_?

Kaneki's fingers were already digging through his pockets to find his keys by the time his eyes fell upon the object left at the foot of his door.

The box slipped from his hands. Kaneki caught Touka's paper before it fluttered away.

No fucking way.

He crouched down on the balls of his feet, picking the rose up gingerly off the floor. Beneath it was an ornately scripted note written on a piece of paper that probably costed more than Kaneki's entire outfit.

_To Kaneki,_

_It might be a little forward, but you won't mind me borrowing sweet Mutsuki for a night, would you? I promise to save some of him just for you._

_Perhaps you and I could have dinner together? I bet he tastes divine._

_Tsukiyama Shuu_

Kaneki ripped the paper in half. He ripped it again. And again. And again.

He snapped the rose, and as he stood up, he stomped on it, grinding his heel into the petals. He unlocked his door, scooped up the remnants of the rose and his box, and he kicked the door open.

He tossed the torn up note and the rose into the trash.

And then he ripped the box open.

The wrappings and trappings fell away, and he let the box collide with the wooden floor.

His nails bit into the smooth new leather. The mask seemed to wilt in his hands, the smell of it filling up the room and reminding him who he was, what he was, what he had been, what he would be.

Nobody got to escape fate.

Not even a time traveler.

 _Especially_ not a time traveler.

* * *

"Yo," Touka said breathlessly as she jogged into the meeting room. There were way too many people here right now to see her be so exceptionally late. She skidded to a stop beside Ayato, whose heated glower fueled her bravado. "What'd I miss?"

"Is there a reason you're so late," Tatara asked in his chilly voice, "little Kirishima?"

"Girl's gotta eat, man."

Ayato scoffed beside her, and his eyes shot away. His shoulders had tensed up.

"Is our food not to your satisfaction?"

Touka opened her mouth to retort, but Ayato replied for her.

"Touka has a very particular taste. Let me guess," he said haughtily. "It was some lowlife rapist. Child abuser. Wife beater. Pimp."

Touka's mouth remained open for a startled moment before she clamped it shut, her face reddening in fury and embarrassment.

"What do you know?" she snapped.

"I know you," he taunted her, his voice raising up in a way that she had not heard in years. "Your taste in food is so gross. The scum of the earth _tastes_ like the scum of the earth, you know."

"So maybe I'm doing the earth a favor so their shitty bodies don't contaminate it while they rot," Touka sneered. "You never used to complain when I brought you an extra helping of rapist's arm for dinner, asshole. Let me eat what I want."

"You're too soft."

"Have you two had enough?" Tatara cut in. They both jumped, glancing at each other worriedly. Perhaps they both sensed that they were messing up. Tatara leaned forward, watching them both with a mix of curiosity and impatience. When they didn't respond, he nodded. "Good. Now, you two are going to work together."

"No," Ayato said without missing a goddamn beat. "No way."

"That wasn't a question, Ayato," Tatara said coolly. "It was an order. Touka has yet to prove herself as an asset, and you know the ropes. This mission is for both of you. Understood?"

Touka, who was partly irritated and partly thrilled, was able to contain her rage. "Yes," she said, elbowing Ayato sharply when he opened his mouth to retort. "We understand. What's the mission?"

She swore if she tore that mask off his face, Tatara would be smirking.

Later, she felt her brother shuffling at her side, his breath misting through the grates of his mask.

"What an ugly mask."

"Uta asked me to ask you if you'd model." Touka felt weighed down by her jacket right now. It was eerily similar to Ayato's. "Maybe it was inspired by you."

"Oh, shut up." Ayato's eyes scrunched up. She could not see the lower part of his face. "He did not."

"He literally did. Why don't you head over to Hysy and ask, huh, stupid?"

"Fuck off," he growled, shoving her nearly out of the alley and into the street. "Stupid sister."

He still called her _aneki_. How fucking sweet.

It sounded like a mouthful of sawdust being coughed out.

They were stalking the city like criminals. Hoods up, masks on, fists clenched, eyes sharp. They knew these streets, these steps, this dance of tip toes and crawls, and they knew each other here in this element better than anyone else.

They'd grown up to this song. Moving to this melody.

"Do you know where we're going?"

"Bitch, I actually have experience here." Ayato's eyes flashed to her disdainfully. "Back up. Follow me. And for once, shut the fuck up."

"I know what reconnaissance means, bro," she said icily. "Never thought it your style, though."

"Guess you don't know me very well."

"Bitch," she said, mimicking his tone, "I _raised_ you."

"Bitch," he replied, "you did a _shitty job_."

"Oh," she said in a faux sweet voice, "I know."

"Ugh." Ayato yanked his hood up higher over his head. "Seriously, shut up. You're so annoying."

"I'm annoying?"

"Yes!"

"You are literally the most infuriating person, I swear to fucking god, and I work in customer service!"

"Boo hoo." He stomped ahead of her, acting far too noisy for someone who was supposed to be going about stealthily. He paused, and he glanced at her. "You don't work there anymore. Aogiri is where you work now. Fucking remember that."

"Ooh, shit, man," Touka said bluntly, "I can't believe I fucked up my tenses. Guess I better just lie down in front of a bus."

"I'm serious." Ayato's eyes were glinting white in the gleam of the streetlamps. "Aogiri wants you. I don't know why, but you have everyone's interest, and if you fuck up, they're going to fuck you up. I'd say go home, but you're already in too deep."

"I've been here for like a week."

Ayato stared at her. He huffed in frustration and whirled around. "Forget it! You're so simple minded, you wouldn't even understand!"

"The fuck?" She jogged to catch up with him. "Says who? What's going on?"

"It's not important," Ayato grumbled. "Let's just focus on the mission. We're looking for a lady. I've seen her before, so that's not a problem—"

"Am I in danger here?" Touka asked impulsively. Ayato paused mid-step. He looked at her like she'd stepped on a landmine.

"If you're in any sort of danger," he spat, "it's your own damn fault."

Touka exhaled sharply. She glanced around, and cautiously she pushed her mask back.

"Ayato," she said softly. "I need to know. Is it Yamori?"

"Yamori," he hissed, "Tatara, Noro, Eto— what's the difference? They all see you the same way."

"And how is that?"

"Like a pretty new doll that they can dress up, manipulate, and pull apart." Ayato stared into her eyes, and she saw the fire there, the fury and the disgust.

This was why he'd wanted her to go home.

"Is that how they treat you?" she asked.

"No." Ayato looked away sharply. "I'm not soft like you. I don't love anything, or maybe I don't know how, and they all know it. Maybe we're all the same. I don't know."

"You're not like that," Touka said heatedly.

He looked at her. The shadows from the street lamp were seeping into the alley, contouring his face and making him look ill. His eyes were dipped, sunken, bruised.

"You don't know me at all," he said.

The building was like a warehouse. Ayato showed them some kind of fancy slip of paper at the door, and they let them through. Immediately upon entering Touka knew they were gonna stick out sorely. With their weather beaten faux fur trimmed jackets and their fingerless gloves and their black baggy pants and their scarves that made them look vaguely homeless. And maybe they were.

They wore muddy, scraped up combat boots while other ghouls wore six inch heels.

"Well," Touka said, sliding her hands into her pockets. "This is awkward."

"Only if you make it awkward," he hissed, striding forward and shrugging off his coat. He handed it off to some man in a suit. "We have a reservation."

"Of course. And it's under…?"

"Tree."

The man seemed to pause and give them a once over. Whatever he thought of them, he dismissed it, and led them to a table overlooking what appeared to be an arena.

Touka didn't like the way this was going.

"Miss, may I take your coat?" the man asked before she sat down.

She froze up. Ayato had let him take his, but Ayato hadn't condensed his entire wardrobe into a single backpack. If he wanted a new coat he could just steal it off a corpse. Honestly, Touka didn't doubt that was where all his clothes came from. She knew that old trick. Hell, she'd taught it to him.

She didn't plan on stealing any dead people coats.

"I'll keep it," she said stiffly. "Thanks."

The man watched her warily. Ayato glanced at her sharply, and then he waved the guy off.

"You," he sneered, "are shitty at this."

"I only have one coat."

"I'll get you a new one."

"So sweet," she told him coolly. "Like I asked for a dead guy's coat."

"Oh, fuck off," he spat, sinking into his seat.

"Ask how I knew," she said. "Just ask."

"Hell no."

"Just ask."

"Shut up."

"I knew," she said airily, "because you smell like something rotting."

"I'm gonna wring your neck, I swear."

"You and everyone else, apparently." She leaned back in her chair. "Who doesn't want to kill me or maim me or just straight up emotionally fuck me over?"

"I don't think I know enough people to give that a decent guess," Ayato admitted.

Touka actually laughed at that.

Ayato watched her. His eyes narrowed a little. Perhaps he couldn't tell what she was laughing about, or maybe the sound was just suspicious to him.

Or maybe he'd just forgotten what her laughter had sounded like.

"Oh shit, there she is," Ayato gasped. He jumped to his feet, and Touka twisted to follow his gaze. She couldn't, so she stood as well. And suddenly they were pushing through the gathering crowd of ghouls, moving swiftly to a rail that over looked the steel trapped arena.

"There," Ayato said breathlessly, clamping his hands around the smooth silver railing. "Good. We're right across from her."

"Who?" Touka rested her elbows against the rail casually. She searched the other side of the arena curiously.

"Red dress, blonde buns. Hard to miss, she's so gaudy."

"They're all gaudy."

"Right?" Ayato sniffed, and he leaned up against the rail. "I hate these missions. If they wanted someone who could blend in here, they should have sent Yamori."

"That'd be a mess," Touka said.

"Probably, but it'd be amusing to watch him come back with a few heads, you know?" Ayato might have been grinning. "With the jewels still hanging on 'em?"

Touka snorted. It was a comedic image, that was for sure.

"This would be neat if it were like ghoul boxing ring or something," she said. "A ghoul fight club."

"I'd fight you first," he muttered.

"Um, at a hand to hand fight?" Touka tossed her head, and she adjusted her mask. "Yeah right."

"Yomo taught me as much as you."

"Yomo taught me way more because I still talk to him," Touka reminded. "Brat."

"Why would I keep in touch?" Ayato rested his chin on his folded arms. "He's why we got stuck at Anteiku in the first place. If he hadn't told the old man—"

"We would have gotten caught by the doves," Touka cut in sharply. "You and I were reckless and cruel. We didn't care about who we hurt, or if it hurt us. We just wanted to cause chaos."

"Hm." He was probably scowling beneath the mask, if his shadowy eyes were anything to go by. "Guess nothing's changed."

A chill shot through her.

"No," she murmured. "I guess it hasn't."

A voice breezed through the air.

"Good evening everyone!" From across the arena, she spotted him. He was near their target, wearing his ugly ass mask and making flourishing gestures. As the announcer spoke, the arena's floor began to open. "Tonight's dinner is these three people!"

"Holy shit," Touka growled. "I should have fucking figured."

"What?" Ayato asked, blinking between her and Tsukiyama Shuu. "He's not important. Focus on Madam A."

Touka gritted her teeth. Easy for him to say. Tsukiyama had never flirted with _him_.

Tsukiyama began talking about the food below, which Touka did not want to think about. She couldn't save them. There were casualties to this operation, and she knew that, and she figured Kaneki and his boss did too.

Well, maybe not Kaneki.

Kaneki would probably just try to save them all on the spot, if she'd pegged his personality right.

Touka kind of wanted to meet this mysterious higher up that Kaneki was in cahoots with.

"And also, today's main course is a strange meat… a ghoul."

Touka looked sharply at Tsukiyama. Whispers had sprung up all around them about cannibalism, cannibalism, so bad, so scary. Touka wondered if Tsukiyama had anyone check out his mental health lately.

And then she actually looked down into the arena.

And then she realized how fucked she actually was.

Tsukiyama was standing up. Oh, shit, what was she supposed to do?

Because down below, hunched over, his arms wrapped around his stomach tightly, was Mutsuki Tooru.

"Ladies and gentleman, it's not unreasonable to feel bewildered," Tsukiyama said, his voice booming across the ghoul restaurant. Touka was stretching herself as far as she could over the rail. If she could maybe just… get Mutsuki's attention…

Why did she care? The boy was nothing to her.

Tsukiyama went on and on about ghoul meat, and how Mutsuki was different or something. He just stood there, frozen like a statue. As Tsukiyama passed a handkerchief around, Touka watched Mutsuki fall to his knees.

She felt sick to her stomach.

"This asshole," she spat.

"What?" Ayato raised his head from the rail, and he cocked it back at her. "Not having fun? Welcome to recon. It's the worst."

"Oh, I don't care about that." She was seething. Her whole body was rippling with tension. Because she was remembering now. Why she cared so much.

Mutsuki was sweet, and he was kind, and he would never have come with Tsukiyama willingly.

There was a difference between stupidity and kidnapping.

"Unfortunately I ran into some trouble while getting him here," Tsukiyama was saying in an animated speech about Mutsuki's flavoring or whatever. "While he's worked up a sweat today, he's running on an empty stomach. Tonight we will serve his arms and legs specifically, because they have the most meat on them."

Somebody shouted from the audience, "What about the buttocks?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid," Tsukiyama laughed.

Mutsuki seemed to shrink more and more as she looked down at him.

"That guy," Touka said, jerking a thumb over the rail, "is Tsukiyama."

" _Ew_ ," Ayato blurted, his face wrinkling in absolute disgust beneath his mask. His eyes grew wide, and he glanced over at the other side of the arena. "Fuck. I thought his voice sounded familiar. Oh my god, fuck this. Let's go."

"What?" Touka watched Ayato turn away. She snatched him by the arm. "You're walking away from this?"

"I hate that guy."

"So do I," she gasped. "Which is why I'm surprised you're running away from this opportunity."

He turned back very slowly. His brow was furrowed behind the hesitant curl of his bangs. "I'm listening," he said.

"We turn this show into some real entertainment." She jumped as the arena began to shake. A door was opening, possibly from beneath them. The announcer had just introduced a scrapper. "What do you say, little brother? Think you're up for a rematch?"

He actually paused to consider it. That shocked her. The fact that he needed to think about maybe exacting vengeance for Tsukiyama being such a prick back in the day.

"We'd blow our covers and the mission," he admitted.

"It's just recon on that lady. Well, we've seen what we needed to see, right? Wasn't the scrapper it? That's what I got from the debriefing." Touka gestured over the rail, albeit nervously, at the hulking figure below them. Mutsuki had not risen from the floor yet. "I'll disarm and knock it out. Sound fair? You can do whatever you want with it to report back with. But I want to fight him, and I want to do it now."

"What about the humans?"

 _Why is he thinking so much,_ Touka thought wildly. _He never thinks this much before getting into a fight_.

"The only thing more satisfying than beating Tsukiyama," Touka said fiercely, "would be to ruin his meal."

The sound of sawing and screaming filled the air, and Touka lurched at the rail. She saw that Mutsuki was still there, but he'd jumped to his feet and skittered back. His hands were over his mouth. Maybe to keep from screaming.

"Hurry up and decide!" Touka cried, shoving Ayato harshly. "Yes or no?"

"I have to think," he gasped.

"He nearly took your leg off, and you actually have to think about getting back at him?" Touka scoffed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I really don't know you at all."

He glanced at her. The anger in his eyes made them wide. And then they were black, his sclera transforming and his irises burning red.

"Okay," he rasped. "Let's fuck him up."

Touka grinned, but she knew he couldn't see it.

They were already falling flat when it came to saving the other humans. One guy was already dead, and the woman was running around while Mustuki struggled to figure out what to do. Was this kid really a ghoul investigator? He sure as hell didn't act like it.

"Taro," sang Madam A from across the arena. "Taro, run!"

Touka frankly didn't give a shit about anyone else in the arena. The only important one was Mutsuki.

The woman who was running away fell flat on her face. The announcer called it poison, and the crowd began to chatter excitedly, rumbling about how she hadn't showered, how the scrapper wasn't following directions as it threw the woman onto a grill.

Mutsuki moved.

Touka watched, frozen for a moment in shock, as Mutsuki tore a knife from behind his back and skidded like a baseball player, one leg beneath his knee as he slashed the back of Taro's legs open.

Taro howled and wobbled and half fell onto the grill. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the arena, and Taro's screams grew into wails.

"Now's our chance," Touka gasped. "You want to take the scrapper?"

"Madam A is still my target," Ayato sighed. "So I guess I'll just go for it. You taking the ghoul?"

"Yep." She climbed up onto the rail, her boots wobbling against every steel rod. Still, she balanced easily on top of it, towering over everyone. And all the ghouls around her seemed to sense something. Perhaps her rage was more palpable than she'd realized.

She met Tsukiyama's eye.

Suddenly he was leaning forward, his mouth opening in a strange, exhilarated smile.

Fuck that.

She cocked her head. Her hair skittered against her mask. She flipped him off, and let that settle in for a few seconds before she dove from the railing and into the arena.

Everyone was suddenly silent.

Taro was wobbling around, sniffling and groaning. "Ma…" the scrapper grunted. "Ma…"

Mutsuki was backing away, his one visible eye darting around the arena. He spotted her, and he raised his knife suddenly in a reverse grip. It looked like a razor in his fist. As she came closer, she realized it was the same knife he'd threatened her with a mere few weeks before.

"Hey," she said, holding up her hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Mutsuki's jaw was set and his eye was narrowed and he gripped the knife tighter.

Touka came closer and closer. She ignored Taro, who was lumbering toward them. "You know me," she hissed, trying to keep her words from the masses. "Mutsuki, let me help you."

Perhaps he recognized her voice, because he cautiously began to lower his knife. He squinted at her, and he blinked. "Touka…?" he whispered. She was just close enough to hear it.

When she nodded, Mutsuki's shoulders shuddered. He lowered his knife completely, and he took a deep breath. Then his eye widened.

"Watch out!" he cried, as a saw came down on her from behind. It hit her shoulder, and she listened to it dent. She grabbed it and yanked it away from the scrapper. Her hand became sticky with blood.

"Uh oh," she sneered, crushing the saw in her fist. "Broke your toy. Why don't you go crying back to your mama before I break _you_?"

She kicked him, and he went skidding back across the floor and into a wall. When Taro struggled to get up, Ayato finally decided to swoop down and deliver a strong, deliberate kick into Taro's skull.

Madam A was shrieking something. The crowd was drowning her out.

"What's going on," Mutsuki gasped. He took Touka's arm, and she felt the urge to shake him off, but she saw how badly he was shaking and now she could feel it too. "Are you really going to help me?"

She didn't want to tell him that she didn't have a plan beyond this. Maybe she could consult Ayato about how to get him out of here.

"Yes," she said. She was astonished when he visually relaxed, and his head began to lower. And lower. And lower.

His forehead rested on her shoulder, and she could feel his ragged breathing.

"Don't get hurt because of me," he gasped. "This is my fault. This is my—!"

"Did you come here willingly?" Touka snapped at him.

His whole body stiffened. He didn't respond. So she pushed him.

"Did you?" she asked, gripping him by the shoulders. "Did you willingly come here with Tsukiyama?"

"No," Mutsuki whispered. There were tears in his visible eye. "I just wanted to go home."

Touka relaxed. Her grip lessened on his shoulders, and she stared into his eye, forcing him to stare back through the crescent moons that revealed her gaze.

"Then this is not your fault," she said. "So don't beat yourself up over it. Just focus on surviving, okay?"

His eye was watery, and his face was a little red, but he nodded.

"Okay," he croaked.

"Well," Ayato sighed, dragging Taro by the leg as he approached them. "We fucked up. I can't wait to explain this one."

"It's not over yet," Touka said, her eyes shooting up to meet Tsukiyama's. He didn't look enraged. Just surprised, and maybe a little excited. "You think you can keep up with me, bro?"

"Ha," Ayato barked, a certain amount of delight pouring into the biting tone. "Like you could ever be faster than me. You're a tortoise compared to a hare."

"You fucked up that parable, buddy," she said. "The tortoise wins and the hare loses. Slow and steady wins the race."

"Shut the fuck up."

Mutsuki looked between them with a wide eye.

"Yo!" Ayato snarled, jerking a finger up at the platform that housed Tsukiyama. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Mr. _MM_." He said it so tauntingly, so derisively, that it'd get under anyone's skin. Hell, it got under Touka's, and she hated Tsukiyama.

"Is that right?" Tsukiyama had bristled as he stood. He jumped down, bouncing from table to table. "Well that just won't do! What could I possibly have done to upset you?"

"Jeez," Touka muttered. "He says it like he's not the most unpleasant person ever."

"This bastard is delusional," Ayato said flatly. "I want to make it so he can never smile again."

"Or maybe so he can never talk again," Touka suggested.

"Hell," Ayato hissed, "why not both?"

"That's the spirit."

"Um…" Mutsuki pointed with his knife. "What… are you two planning on doing?"

"Stay out of this, brat," Ayato snapped at him. "Just stand back and hope you don't get hit."

"What?" Mutsuki squeaked.

"Ayato, we should get him out of here," Touka suggested. "We don't want Tsukiyama to have him."

"Ugh. We can deal with that after we deal with him." Ayato cracked his knuckled, his neck craning to stare up at Tsukiyama. "I'm so done with this asshole."

"Ah…" Touka couldn't really blame him. She turned to look at Mutsuki. "Do you think you can stay out of the way of the fight?"

He looked completely uncertain. Utterly shocked and unsure. But he nodded.

"You're good," Touka murmured. She reached up and ruffled his hair thoughtlessly. "You're a good kid."

And then Tsukiyama dropped down, his head tilted, his lips spread in a wide smile.

"You didn't answer me!" he sang, throwing out his arms. "Why are you angry with me? I can't say I know you two."

"Okay, Mutsuki," Touka whispered. "Get as far back as you can."

"Right!"

The moment he left her side, she lowered her chin and angled her shoulders. Ayato did the same, mirroring her every movement.

Tsukiyama paused to take a good look at them. His arms lowered very slowly. His mouth opened, and a short, disbelieving laugh fell out.

"I don't believe this," he gasped. "Is it really you two? My oh my oh my! Ayato, you've grown up so much I barely recognized you! Ah, you've gotten so handsome— truly, you siblings are a sight to behold. And you, Kirishima…" Tsukiyama's gloved finger dragged through the air as he looked her up and down. It made her feel nauseous. He had a gaze that suggested that he was never seeing what was on the surface, and not in a pensive way. No, he looked at people and imagined what they would look like stripped naked, cold, afraid, and probably at his mercy. "You only grow more and more stunning each day."

"You are disgusting."

"For real," Ayato grumbled, shaking his shoulders as if he was shrugging off a chill. "Why does every fucking word out of your mouth sound like sexual harassment?"

Tsukiyama's expression fell. At least what they could see of it.

"Excuse me?" he asked coolly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Holy shit, you _are_ delusional!" Ayato sneered.

"You're not charming, Tsukiyama," Touka said dully, her shoulder lining up with Ayato's. "You're just creepy."

And with that, both their kagunes burst from their shoulders at once, unfurling like three cohesive masses, bright and red and spitting at the air like fire. Their wings were stained glass against an open flame, constantly moving, constantly thriving, needing, aching to beat the air into submission. Touka felt Ayato at her side by the heat of his kagune, by the light it emitted, and it moved in a familiar way that made her fall into old tunes, move to old steps.

They didn't even need to look at each other to understand what their next move was.

Tsukiyama probably saw their double attack coming, which was why Touka pulled back at the last minute and dashed behind him. When he'd moved to slide out of the way from her and Ayato's kagune, she managed to catch him by the arms. A wing sliced into his shoulder, and her knee collided with his back.

"Nice," Ayato breathed as she kicked Tsukiyama into a wall. "You thought ahead."

"That attack can't work on the same person twice," Touka replied. "Come on."

"I knew that," Ayato huffed.

"Sure." And maybe he did. Because he had not missed a beat in conforming to her strategy.

"Okay," Tsukiyama exhaled shakily, dusting himself off. "Now… now you two are getting annoying. I'll play your little game, but you don't get to take my precious dinner."

"He's not yours to have," Touka snapped.

"Why are you so fucking gross?" Ayato stepped forward as Tsukiyama shrugged. "Ugh, it's sadists like you who play with their food that really piss me off. Like if you're gonna eat then eat, but you act like you're entitled to something!"

Touka was surprised by him, her eyes flickering sharply to his face, searching it for sincerity. And she saw that he was sincerely pissed.

Maybe her little brother wasn't so far gone after all.

Touka backtracked, listening as the crowd grew restless, murmurings flooding her skull and burrowing under her skin. The cheered Tsukiyama on, spitting vulgarities at them, crowing for their heads to be manually removed from their spines.

Ayato moved. He was speed incarnate, like the wind of a monsoon colliding with Tsukiyama and taking him down before scaling back and sending a barrage of flechettes. Tsukiyama barely dodged the bulk of them, looking pained and disgruntled. He plucked the glistening red shards from his leg and bicep, hissing as he smoothed his hair out of his face.

"You two are testing my patience," he said.

"Good," Touka snapped, pushing off the ground and bouncing from the wall, sending her own flechette attack as Ayato maneuvered through it. His fist smashed into Tsukiyama's jaw in a fierce uppercut. She dropped from the wall and into a roll, kneeling down and watching Ayato's fist rain down again and again. She noted Tsukiyama's stance.

"Shit," she gasped, springing upright and dashing forward. She caught Ayato around the waist, and they both collapsed against the ground, Tsukiyama's kagune slicing the air where Ayato's abdomen had been. Ayato shoved her harshly.

"I was fine," he gasped.

"He was going to skewer you." She leapt to her feet, dragging him with her. He shoved her so hard she went flying onto her back, her kagune fluttering around her.

"I don't need you to protect me!" he snapped.

"Now, now, Ayato," Tsukiyama cooed. "You should be kinder to your sister!"

Touka bolted upright at the sound of a smack. Ayato stumbled in shock, dodging the second punch and blocking the third. He swept his kagune up, sending it slicing down, but Tsukiyama simply deflected it and kicked Ayato into a wall.

"Touka!" Through the din of the cheering ghouls around them, Mutsuki's voice was the one clear sound. He helped her to her feet, and she held his shoulder as she looked at Tsukiyama. He was watching her right back.

"Guess it's finally a real fight," she muttered. "Mutsuki, stay out of it, okay?"

"I…" He gripped her bicep tightly. "I feel so useless…"

"You'll feel even more useless if you end up getting hurt and dragging us down," she gasped, tearing her arm from his hand. "Stay far away. As far as you can. Okay?"

"Y-yes…"

Touka stared at him. There was fear in his eyes, but also a desperate sort of need to attack, a determination of a strong mind in a weak body. She knew that look. She wished she could help him more.

But she didn't have the fucking time.

So she took his hand, squeezed it tight, and then jumped back into the fray.

She ended up dashing in front of Tsukiyama, ducking his slicing kagune and punching him in the stomach. He made a satisfying choking sound, buckling and allowing her to get another good punch in. He kicked her, his heel digging into her shoulder and sending her flying. She managed to land on her feet, but she wobbled, her kagune guttering. She'd run out of steam before they could finish this fight.

Ayato took her place, his kagune swinging around restlessly, slicing and swishing and slashing away at the air around Tsukiyama. He wasn't doing anything fancy with his kagune, which was unlike Ayato. The one thing she knew for sure about Ayato was that he was powerful, and he needed the world to know.

So whatever he was doing, he was holding back.

Ayato kicked Tsukiyama in the face, and Tsukiyama retaliated, catching Ayato's sleeve and bringing him down. They were both on the floor, and Touka ran for them, watching Tsukiyama's kagune glint as he knicked Ayato's arm. Ayato managed to squirm away, skidding back and scaling the wall. He sent another barrage of flechettes, forcing Touka to fling herself out of the way in order not to get caught in the storm.

Everyone in the audience went wild with shrieks. Pained, scared shrieks.

Touka paused to look up. All the ghouls were running in different directions, and with every moment that passed the shrieks grew louder.

There was a sound. She knew it well, the swish and squish and squelch.

Cut and rip and chomp.

Someone up there was killing and eating and killing and eating.

This had taken a bad turn.

She glanced back at Mutsuki, who must have noticed, because he was scanning the upper floors.

Touka bolted forward as Tsukiyama skidded across the ground, landing near Mutsuki. The boy had stumbled back, but Tsukiyama saw him and jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" Touka shouted. "Let go of him!"

Mutsuki shrieked as Tsukiyama caught him around the waist and dragged him back.

"Why are you interfering," Tsukiyama gasped, "when this means nothing to you? I know you. I know how you hate to get involved. Why do you care?"

"Because…" Touka had to stop. She saw the fear in Mutsuki's eye. "Because I do. Because you can't treat people like you're entitled to them!"

"But I want what I want," Tsukiyama said, "and if I want it, I'll take it."

Mutsuki's scream was a mixture of shock and pain as Tsukiyama pried his shirt away from his shoulder and he closed his teeth around the thin brown skin. Touka lurched forward, but Mutsuki ended up reacting faster. He stabbed Tsukiyama's arm first, and when he stumbled back, Mutsuki stabbed him again in the stomach.

Ayato swept in and kicked Tsukiyama into the floor, allowing Mutsuki to stumble back dazedly blood staining the white button down. He collided into Touka, and she held him gingerly.

"Why did this happen…?" he whispered, resting his cheek against her shoulder, his nose half buried in the faux fur lined jacket. "I just… I just wanted to go home…"

"You'll go home soon, Mutsuki," she replied as softly as she could beneath the great cacophony of screams around them.

"Why didn't you just let me die?" Her neck was wet. He was crying now. She could feel his eyelashes against her neck, and she realized he must have lost his eyepatch in the fray. "It would have been easier for you."

"No," she said quietly. She awkwardly pushed him back, and she reached up, brushing his tears away. It felt weird and foreign, like someone else was moving. Someone else was caring. "A fight is easy. There always is… and there always will be… some kind of fight in me. But standing by and watching you suffer? _That's_ hard."

His eyes were mismatched, one black and glowing, one doe-eyed and dull, but they both were huge and watery nonetheless.

And somehow, he managed to smile at her.

"You're a good person," he whispered, touching her mask. "It's not fair. It's cruel that we hunt you."

"That's just how it is." She took his hand and pulled it from her mask. "Are you okay? Can you walk?"

"Y-yeah." He nodded firmly. "Yes. I can."

"Then get away from here."

"Okay…" His tearful face was somewhat serene as he backed away from her. The fact that he had not panicked was jarring. He was not like most humans. He could handle pain. He could handle misery. He could handle pressure, if the whole world was on fire with him.

She put her focus back on Tsukiyama. He'd gotten a new spring to his step, his blows faster, more precise, and Ayato was struggling attack and block at the same time. As they moved, their feet seemed to guide them, fast, frequent steps, like a waltz around a death chamber.

Ayato glanced at Mutsuki, and he fell short.

"One eye…?" Ayato gasped in mild shock. He had faltered, even for just a second. It was enough.

Touka leapt forward, reaching for Ayato's shoulders to push him away.

A great shudder of pain ran through her.

Why was that?

She gritted her teeth. Right. Right, right, right.

So she must have intercepted Tsukiyama's attack. So his kagune must have caught her. It felt familiar, being stabbed in the gut. Except this was different. Had Tsukiyama really skewered her all the way through? She had to look down to see how deeply imbedded the kagune was.

Shit.

This would not heal fast.

She felt a feeling building up inside her, a laugh bubbling in her chest. She let it go.

Blood fell from her lips in a burst.

Tsukiyama tore his kagune from her stomach, and he flicked her blood off.

"That wasn't meant for you," Tsukiyama said in an almost remorseful tone. She couldn't hear him too well. She blinked wildly.

Suddenly she was falling. She was falling, and her vision swam, and she couldn't catch herself before she hit the ground.

But someone else did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oscillum, oscilli  
> small mask


	19. frendo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's always weird when i realize i have to make these characters be direct and confrontational bc nobody in tg talks about their problems and that's why everything is a mess

Repeating past mistakes was a little like getting lost on the way to a place you've known since childhood.

There really was no excuse for why it happened.

It just happened. Place the blame wherever it may fall, because it was going to happen.

And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Kaneki found himself clutching Touka in his bloodstained hands, his chest rising and falling in rapid huffs. He didn't remember leaping down here. He hardly remembered anything beyond killing the doorman and seeing the fight ensuing below in the arena. Something in him had snapped, something that had been stretched and bent and gnawed at for weeks upon weeks upon months.

His mind was crumbling, and he felt the surge that came with that, the energy that thudded through him, the inexplicable need to move and move and move, eat and eat and eat, even though he was so fucking tired, even though all he wanted was to lie down and let the earth gather around him, soil layering over and over and over until it was three thousand years from now, and the excavators found his bones.

He was dizzy and sick with his own horrible power.

He was so awful. He was so fucking awful, and he loved it. He loved every fucking minute of it.

How deranged was that?

Because he knew this high would end, and he knew that the underlying thread of exhaustion would weave itself into a heavy blanket. He would not be able to stop it from enveloping him.

All in all, he would be tired, and he would hate himself.

It was already starting to happen. He was sipping on the dregs of his high, the energy from the massacre he'd just initiated spiking as the regret settled in, heaviness dropping into his stomach and leaving him feeling bloated and nauseous.

He'd eaten.

He'd eaten, and now he felt his body grumble and rumble and turn against him.

Eat and be eaten. That was the cycle he'd thrown himself into.

Kaneki teetered, blood trickling against the maw of the white leather mask fastened on his face. He watched Touka grimace in his arms, her hands folding over her eyes and her breaths becoming labored and quick. He didn't know what to do with this.

He didn't think he could hold her right now. Not right now.

If there was anything for certain, it was that Kaneki was capable of tearing everything and everyone apart.

There was a far off cry of rage, something strange and pained as it tore through the air. Suddenly the air was being sucked from their lungs, and wings were becoming a whirlwind, and Kaneki stepped back and watched Ayato let his wings rain fire upon Tsukiyama.

Kaneki had to take a moment.

Eat and eat and eat.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

He had to beat Tsukiyama.

Suddenly he was dropping to his knees, Touka falling across his lap. A reverse Pieta.

Eat and eat and eat.

More and more and more!

Why had he done this?

He didn't want this!

How had he let this happen again? He was out of control, out of his head, out of his body, and oh the ache, oh the mistake, oh the blood and the guts and the bones.

Oh, the stars.

All he could see was stars, and all he wanted was to pluck them from the sky and place them on his tongue.

His fingers itched toward Touka's mask. It was a beautiful thing, so elegant and delicate compared to her rabbit mask.

The impulse was quelled by her shuddering groan.

Kaneki pushed her off his lap and skittered away, his fingers drawing red lines down the cheek of his mask, drawing between the zipper and stuffed between his teeth. He gnawed on them, a barely containing a scream.

And then he really did scream.

He arched his back, and then he hunched over, and he screamed into his hands.

He didn't want this!

Oh, oh, oh! The stars, the blood, the moon, the guts, the sun, the bones, and oh, the mistakes.

Oh, the mistakes.

He could cast himself from the highest tower in all of time and all of space and it would not make this feeling ease.

Oh, oh, oh.

He could die again, and it would be a kinder fate than this harsh creeping, itching, salivating, creaking, inching state.

Ghoul meat reduced him to an insect.

A glorified fucking worm.

He felt so worn out all of a sudden.

The screaming had stopped.

He pulled his finger from his mouth, strings of red tinted saliva tied to his hands. His lips quivered, and he blinked rapidly, the whole entire world freezing at once. He licked his lips, the residual tang of ghoul blood fizzling up his brain, and he exhaled shakily.

His thoughts. They were in shambles. Yes, they were, they were, but…

Less so now.

Yes, they were. But.

Less so now.

It was all a slow drag down, a fucking spiral that led him into a room filled with water, and he just let it fall into his mouth a fill up his lungs because he was so fucking tired.

So tired.

So goddamn tired!

 _I'm broken, I'm breaking, I've never been whole to begin with, and now it's all falling apart, my brain, my body, my will._ He took a deep, shuddering breath. And a laugh fell out.

What a fucking joke!

He! Kaneki Ken! Was the greatest fucking joke to ever grace this fucking planet!

Ha! Ha ha ha ha!

He staggered to his feet, and the world seemed to twist and shake and dance with him.

"Move," he said dully, his fingers plucking Ayato up by the back of his shirt and tossing him away. "Help your sister. This is not your fight."

His wings and caught him, grazed him, and Kaneki's fingers were shredded. He glanced at them.

Tsukiyama was breathing heavy, his grin plastered on his face as he adjusted his stance. His eyes were alight.

"Hello," he greeted breathlessly, tossing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. "You seem familiar. Have we met before?"

Kaneki licked his lips. He sucked on the blood leaking from his fingers. The wounds were sealing up quickly.

He zipped up his mouth, and he tilted his chin back.

_Have we met before?_

Kaneki could play this game forever and never get it right.

"I," Kaneki said in a soft, booming, quivering, steadfast voice, "regret."

Tsukiyama's eyes were bright, curiosity luminous in the way he watched Kaneki's feet drag across the floor lethargically.

"Ahh…?" His kagune shifted as he offered up his arms. "And what, pray tell, do you regret?"

Kaneki's feet clipped against the stone. He'd thrown on a pair of boots, the only ones he currently owned. Jeans. A black zip up sweater. The hood was gathered close to his ears. His hair was like feathers, inky and unkempt. Too long now, too tangled and messy to manage. It bunched around his ears and small waves.

He lifted his head, and he let it tilt sadly.

"Oh," he sighed, "everything."

And then he let his kagune unspool from his back in four slithering limbs.

Tsukiyama looked beyond delighted.

"You!" He jerked forward. "You got my message! Oh, this really quite the development, I wasn't prepared _at all_! Ah, where did Mutsuki go…?"

Kaneki pushed off the ground and attempted an aerial attack that composed of two limbs keeping Tsukiyama's kagune at bay while the other two struck at his left shoulder. Tsukiyama had difficulty springing away, his shoulder getting caught by the edge of one of the limbs. When Tsukiyama whirled around, Kaneki kicked off his back and landed in a roll. He leapt to his feet, his kagune curling around him.

"I," Kaneki said shakily, "have gone through too much for you to ruin it with your fucking arrogance, Tsukiyama."

"I'm not sure what you mean!"

Blows were exchanged, purple and red smearing as they moved about in a dance of one two three, one two three, a waltz that was not meant to bear any positive results. Kaneki spun, his kagune swishing and stabbing and colliding and leaving lacerations on Tsukiyama's cheek, on his side, on his leg. When Tsukiyama retaliated, the force was brute and it was slow and it had too much angling and too much polishing and Kaneki could ease his way out with a twist and a kick and a punch in the jaw.

"Nothing I say will ever get through to you," Kaneki hissed, snatching Tsukiyama by the shirt when the punch sent him shooting back. His head snapped, a sharp groan escaping his lips, and he grimaced. "Listen to me carefully. I will kill you. Maybe today, maybe someday in the near future. Maybe because I want to, or maybe because I was ordered to. I can't protect you, and I don't _want_ to!" He flung Tsukiyama into a wall, watching him spin and try and catch himself.

He ended up skidding and smashing into it anyway.

"I forgot how fucked up you really are," Kaneki said coolly, stepping quickly, deliberately towards Tsukiyama's hunched form. "Hey, asshole. Hey. Are you fucking listening yet? Hey." Kaneki's whole body was rippling with tension.

Oh, oh, oh.

He could really kill this friend of his.

Tsukiyama glanced up, blood seeping from his hairline and skittering into his brow.

"Yes," he gasped, a plainly excited smile playing on his lips. "I am hanging on every word you say."

"Good." Kaneki used an inordinate amount of force to kick Tsukiyama across the face. He was punted halfway across the arena. "Hey. Hey!" Kaneki used his kagune to throw himself at the ground before Tsukiyama's face. As the man tried to push himself up, Kaneki kicked his face back down into the stone floor. "You don't get to stand. You don't deserve it, you piece of trash. Shit. Fuck. I hate you. Right now, I hate you, and I want to kill you. I should kill you."

"Just fucking do it, Eyepatch!" Ayato snapped from somewhere around him, somewhere far off, somewhere in another world.

Right now it was just Kaneki.

It was just Kaneki and a heap of trash.

There was a muffled response somewhere beneath his foot. Kaneki didn't have the patience to raise it and find out whatever the nonsense was that Tsukiyama wanted to spew out.

"Should I?" Kaneki was asking himself. "Should I? I want to. But I want to do a lot of things a lot of the time and there are a lot of things that I regret, and if I die, if I die, I can't regret everything again, not again, so should I? Hey." He rose his foot and kicked Tsukiyama over. "Hey. Motherfucker. Tell me now. Give me a fucking reason. Why should I let you live?"

Tsukiyama's eyes were wide, and perhaps he realized now that Kaneki was serious, that he wanted nothing more than to split his chest into four separate entities. His smile turned wan, and then it disappeared completely.

But somehow he still seemed fucking wonderstruck.

"I can help you," Tsukiyama gasped. "Is that what you want? Oh, I misjudged you!" He laughed, and Kaneki felt the hum of it beneath the boot lying on Tsukiyama's chest. He coughed a bit, and he smirked up at Kaneki. "You are so… incredibly strong. I see now."

"You may see," Kaneki spat, "but do you _listen_?"

Tsukiyama's adam's apple bobbed. His smile was tight as the claw of one of Kaneki's kagune limbs grazed his trachea.

"I can start," he said thickly.

Oh. Everything in him was screaming.

Oh. He just wanted to fucking stop already.

Oh. The energy was failing him, and the lethargy returned.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Let the stars crash to the earth.

Let heaven come bearing down on him.

He could sleep in heaven.

With a heavy heart, he allowed his kagune to return to him, his body feeling simultaneously weightless and bloated. He turned around.

"This will not happen again," he said. "If you slip up, I will drag you to the inferno and back. And then I will show you what suffering feels like."

"Pretty threat."

"Not a threat," Kaneki whispered, cracking his index finger and meeting Ayato's chilly gaze. "A promise."

Ayato was holding Touka tightly in his arms. He eyed Kaneki distrustfully.

"Kill him," Ayato hissed.

"Not yet," Kaneki replied.

"You," Ayato spat, his shoulders shaking as he backed away. Touka was pulled tighter to his chest. "Whoever the fuck you are. You are a coward!"

"Maybe," Kaneki agreed softly. "But at least I'm pragmatic."

"Ugh!" Ayato whirled away. He jumped, scaling up the wall with great ease and disappearing on an upper platform.

Oh. Speaking of regret.

The sight of him taking Touka away was unbearable. To say the least.

Save and save and save.

Now he could only watch as everything he tried to accomplish was laid to waste at his feet.

He dragged his hands over his mask. He was shuddering. He was shivering. He was shifting from the mad mad madness that seemed to seep seep through him, and oh the stars, oh the sun, oh the moon, oh the fate that tore into him with a needle and a thread and tied him to these awful events that scarred his brain like craters upon ancient landscapes.

Oh, oh, oh. He would never find home again.

Oh, oh, oh.

He should have fucking died in a bed of spider lilies.

At least then he had been allowed to sleep.

The whole arena seemed to be vacated.

Aogiri would know of him. They would wonder about the Eyepatch ghoul.

But they could not have him this time.

This time, Kaneki got to be strong. Strong enough, at least, for this one thing.

Oh, oh, oh.

To be strong and to be weak. How utterly useless those phrases were. He could never not be weak. He was just stranded in a sense that he had been born to lie among the dirt and let the flowers grow from his passively decaying body.

Oh, oh, oh.

Should he not let it all end?

Thoughts like these were familiar, like old picture books fallen from a shelf.

He wanted to burn them all.

Oh, oh, oh.

"Kaneki…"

Oh.

Kaneki froze. His thoughts and feelings and very blood seemed to freeze up.

He had forgotten.

In this light, Mutsuki was shabby and shaky and shot through with lines of exhaustion. His fingers were trembling against the hilt of his quinque, and his shoulder was bloodied up. His kakugan was visible, his eyepatch nowhere in sight, and suddenly all of Kaneki's senses rushed back to him.

"Mu…" Kaneki took a step back, holding his head. "Mutsuki…"

The boy looked sad as he stood before Kaneki. His chin lowered. His jaw set.

He flipped the quinque in his hand and offered the hilt to Kaneki.

Kaneki stared down at it with wide eyes.

"Kill me," Mutsuki whispered. "I dare you."

Kaneki was already so fucked up.

Eating had been a mistake, and his mind was mush, and his body was electrified and bloated and it craved more and more and more.

It remembered what time had forgot.

Kaneki could consume power without ever laying a finger on a human.

Eat and eat and eat.

Oh, oh, oh.

Kaneki shook. He shuddered. He shivered.

And he snatched the knife from Mutsuki's hand and flung it to the floor.

"No," he gasped. "No! No, no, no!"

Mutsuki looked vaguely alarmed.

Just vaguely though.

"Why," Kaneki cried out, his bloody fingers clawing through his hair. "Why, why, why? Why would you ask me to do that?"

"I wanted to see if you would," Mutsuki said simply.

"No!"

"You can kill a dozen people," Mutsuki said softly, "but not me?"

"You're not them."

"I'm not a ghoul, you mean?"

"You're not a bad person!" Kaneki swallowed hard, blinking back tears. This was too much. This was too fucking much.

 _I would give anything for Mutsuki to not end up like me_.

Why and why and why.

His senses were returning.

Slow and slow and slower yet, because all he could think was that he'd done this to him.

"Am I not?" Mutsuki looked genuinely surprised. "You read my file, didn't you? You tell me what's good about me."

Kaneki couldn't stand this.

"I don't _care_ what your file says!" Kaneki wanted to reach out to touch him, but he felt that would be unwise. "Mutsuki, I hurt you once. I don't want to hurt you again. You are sweet, and generous, and everything I wish I could be. I need you to stay that way."

Somehow, Mutsuki didn't look convinced.

"I don't understand," Mutsuki said. He looked troubled and distant, like he wanted to escape from his skin.

"I'm not asking you to understand," Kaneki said quietly. "I'm just asking you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Mutsuki stared at him with large, searching eyes. They were watery, one bright, one dim, and his face seemed to collapse in exhaustion.

"I don't know," he whispered.

Kaneki could not quite comprehend the wound his words had inflicted.

Very slowly, he leaned down and he scooped up Mutsuki's quinque. Mutsuki took a sharp step back.

"Here," Kaneki said, offering it out. "Please take this. If you ever feel scared of me, I want you to kill me with it. Okay?"

"No," Mutsuki croaked, shaking his head furiously. "No, that's not okay!"

"Now you know how I feel." Kaneki took Mutsuki's hand gingerly, and he dropped the knife into it. "Are you scared of me right now?"

Mutsuki stared at him, tears filling up his eyes as he watched. He watched and he searched and if he saw something, if he found anything, it was enough.

It was enough.

"No," Mutsuki sighed, a tear trickling from the eye blackened by his perpetual kakugan. His fingers tightened around the knife, and he relaxed. "I'm not."

It was the first good thing to happen all fucking day.

It was enough, maybe, to cease the cacophony inside his head.

Oh, oh, oh.

He would not fall prey to this again.

* * *

"I found him."

" _Oh really?_ " Why did Yoshitoki sound so unsurprised? Kaneki stared dully at his hands as he sat on the coffee table, watching Mutsuki's chest rise and fall evenly. He'd fallen asleep on the train home, and Kaneki had been able to carry him without him waking. Which was a testament to Mutsuki's exhaustion. " _That's great to hear! Is he okay, then? I hope you didn't run into any trouble_."

"A little trouble," Kaneki admitted. "But it's manageable. I guess." Kaneki didn't feel like his problems were manageable. He was still craving more and more and more. "I have some things for you. A list of names, and an additional proposition."

" _Sounds promising_." Yoshitoki was probably beaming on the other side of the phone. " _How about we meet this week? I'd like to speak to you about something._ "

"Sure."

" _You can bring Mutsuki, if he's feeling up to it._ "

Kaneki's eyes trailed to the boy's face. His eyelashes were thick and glistening from the tears he'd shed on the way back home.

Kaneki had really fucked up.

"Maybe," he said. "I'd have to ask him."

" _Yeah, of course. Just let me know, okay_?"

Kaneki shut his phone and set it aside. He pulled his knees up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

Oh, oh, oh.

The hollowness returned.

He did not miss this.

He had forgotten. Funny, wasn't it? Forgetting what it felt like to lose your mind.

It was so scary. He was so scared. Of himself, of the things he dreamt that were realities, of the realities that he found to be dreams. He was scared that he could never know himself, and therefore never know anyone else.

He was scared that this was all a lie. That he was a faker at heart.

The king of fakes.

The worst part was that he knew he wanted to be alone. He knew that it would be easier to suffer this alone, with nothing but his stuffed up brain and his busted up heart.

But the thing was, he had played this game before.

And whatever the hell he wanted right now, it had to be wrong.

So he picked up his phone, and he did what he knew he would regret.

_SOS_

To Hide. No explanation.

The phone buzzed half a heartbeat later.

_On my way_

Mutsuki woke with a start. He was half shouting, his arms flying outward and his body jerking forward, and he gasped, wincing and folding his arms over his chest. He must have sat up the wrong way.

"Hey," Kaneki said gently, sliding over to the side of the table nearest to Mutsuki. "It's okay."

"K— Kaneki…?" Mutsuki was panting, his hands finding his eyes, finding the tears on his cheeks, finding his tousled hair, finding his trembling lips. "I… I'm so sorry… I…"

"Please," Kaneki sighed, shaking his head. "Don't. Tell me what you're really feeling, Mutsuki."

And then Mutsuki Tooru began to sob.

Kaneki was shocked. He reached out, but Mutsuki flinched back. He shook his head, and he shook, and he shook, and oh, he shook.

And then he just… blurted it out.

"I just want to be me," he gasped, heaving a breath and hiding his face in shame. "I didn't know how to tell you. I-I-I—! I didn't _want_ you to know! When people know, they treat you different! I… I… I should have s-said, right? But I hate it, I hate this part of me, I hate that I hide it, I hate that I can't be normal, I hate th-that. That I'm me. I hate myself."

"Please don't," Kaneki whispered.

"But I do, and I-I-I— I want to be someone different." Mutsuki was shaking worse than he had in the arena. His composure had slipped. This was what he'd been hiding. At least for the most part. "Why is it… why is it that I can legally change my _species_ but I have to wait until I'm twenty to change my sex? I— I don't get it! It's not fair!"

"I'm sorry," Kaneki said softly.

Mutsuki was trembling. He buried his face in his hands, and he hiccupped, and then he shook his head. "Please… please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, Kaneki, honest, I— I just wanted to come home."

"I don't blame you for any of it." Kaneki reached out, and he grasped Mutsuki's shaky hands, prying them away from his tear streaked face. "Not one bit. Tsukiyama is hard to resist. I get that."

"I knew he wasn't going to take me home," Mutsuki mumbled. "I'm such an idiot. Why did I let him take me with him?"

"He's charming, I guess."

"No… no, he was definitely creepy." Mutsuki shuddered. He stared down at his hands in Kaneki's. "He knew. About me. He knew, and he tried to use that against me. This is why I keep it a secret. Anybody worth telling doesn't want to know you're trans."

It was the first time Mutsuki had actually said it, which was strange to hear and stranger to feel. Because Kaneki felt distinctly detached from the subject. He felt like he should be more sympathetic. There was an allegory here somewhere, if he dug deep enough. But he was too tired to analyze his life for some poetic line where he might be able to understand even an ounce of the heartache and trauma Mutsuki had been through.

"I don't want to say that I don't care," Kaneki stated carefully, "because that's not the case. I do care, I guess, just not for the reason you think. I don't mind what your gender is. I'd happily accept you any way you choose, girl, boy, something in between, nothing at all, that's… that's honestly fine by me." He smiled faintly. "Identity is a hard thing to puzzle out. I think it's really amazing that you know who you are, and who you want to be, and you maintain that sense of self."

Mutsuki looked a little stunned, his mouth parting slowly. He blinked, and his brow furrowed.

"I don't know myself at all," he murmured. "Oh… Kaneki, it's the worst. It's the worst feeling. Sometimes I think I'm wrong. That I'm faking it. That's what I used to think all the time. Is that bad? But it's been that way forever and ever, as far back as I can remember. Every feeling I have, I just… I think that it's just a trick of my brain." He was staring into a far off place between the corner of the living room and the corner of his memory. "Am I _really_ a boy, or am I just a silly girl playing pretend? Am I _really_ anxious or am I just making a big deal out of nothing. It just gets worse and worse."

Kaneki took a deep breath. He squeezed Mutsuki's hands tightly.

"Minds are dangerous places to dwell in," he warned. "Whatever you want, whoever you want to be, you own it. Not the other way around. Say that you are a boy, and I'll believe it."

Mutsuki's whole body quaked. He leaned forward and all but fell into Kaneki, his face colliding with his chest. He didn't sob again, but he shook and shook and shook as though he would never stop shaking again. He clung, his body unbearably small and bony as he half curled against Kaneki, crying away his doubts. He left Kaneki's shirt wet, and he left himself utterly exhausted. There was no energy left for Mutsuki to pull back.

It took Kaneki a few minutes to realize Mutsuki had fallen asleep again. So he gingerly gathered him up, and he brought him to his room so he could sleep in peace while Kaneki got his own issues out into the open.

When that was done, he let himself lie down on the couch and watch the ceiling fan. It wasn't even on. It was freezing outside— why should it be? He was forgetting the dates, the times, and the seasons. He was forgetting where he stood in this world, and how he might sort things out.

He was forgetting that his fate was dictated by a string of suffering that he didn't know how to stop.

It was like a fucking tsunami. How the hell was he supposed to stop it from destroying everything?

Yes, he was wallowing, and he hated himself for it, but he couldn't stop.

It was hard to pull himself out of a tangled rut of thoughts that strangled his brain.

The door opened without warning. Kaneki didn't even want to sit up. He just curled onto his side as Hide, still wearing his Anteiku uniform, burst into the room and marched around the couch and stopping before him.

Hide looked down at him with true fear glazing his eyes.

"What happened, buddy?" Hide whispered, his eyes quickly flicking about the room.

Kaneki's cheek burrowed into the couch cushion.

"I fucked up," he mumbled.

"Mm. Okay." Hide cracked a smile, and he sat where Kaneki had sat about fifteen minutes earlier. The table creaked mildly under his weight. "What else is new?"

Kaneki watched the leg of the table. It was wobbly and chipped. He wondered if he should fix it.

"Kaneki."

He felt so tired and spent. He felt like he'd forgotten how to be alive. It was so incredibly draining to just exist. Could it not just end? He would give anything. He wanted nothing more than to just stop. Was that so bad?

"Kaneki."

Why had he done it? He felt so sick to his stomach now. Oh, oh, oh, the regret, it was gonna eat him alive like he had to those ghouls.

"Oi!" Hide snatched a pillow from the couch and smacked Kaneki's shoulder. Kaneki jumped. "Answer me! I can't help if I don't know what happened!"

"I don't know if you can help at all," Kaneki admitted weakly.

"I can sure as hell _try_!" Hide hugged the pillow to his chest and scowled. "You just gotta let me, man."

He cautiously sat up. His whole body ached and groaned, hissing at him that he would feel this mistake for the rest of his life. There was nothing simple or easy about resorting to eating ghouls. It tricked your mind and warped your body. You became a shell of a person, trying so hard to remember the person you used to be, trying to show that you could still love, that you were still capable of such a beautiful thing.

"I ate a bunch of ghouls," Kaneki said quietly, dragging his fingers through his hair and blinking the film from his eyes. "Ah. I think it was a bunch. I don't remember too well."

Hide watched him. He didn't look surprised or afraid, but the lack of a reaction was even more terrifying than a negative one. Kaneki didn't know what to say or do next. He shivered, and he licked his lips.

"I feel so bad, Hide," he whispered.

"What does eating ghouls… do… exactly…?" He spoke with caution. Like he was treading on thin ice. Like he knew that he was heading down a dangerous path, but he saw exactly where the pitfalls were.

"I can't explain it." Kaneki opened and closed his hands. There was still blood caked to them, dried up in the creases, powdery beneath his nails. Hide saw, and he made no comment. "It's scary. I don't like this. This is a thing that is beyond humanity."

"Is that so bad?"

"Yes." Kaneki met Hide's eye. "All I ever wanted was to be as human as I possibly could be. But now I feel it. I've made a mistake."

"We all make them." Hide smiled wanly. "You are not the only one, Kaneki. And eating ghouls— I'm not saying that was the right decision, but whatever, man. It happened. You gotta live with it."

"What if I do it again?"

"Then you do it again," Hide said, scratching his cheek. His smile was still in place. "And you hate yourself more for it. Is this what you want, Kaneki? To eat ghouls for the rest of your life?"

"No," he groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. "Not at all! But, Hide, I feel like I've run out of options. I can't be strong with the gunk the CCG feeds me!"

"Who said anything about being strong?" Hide's eyes had widened, the first true reaction Kaneki had gotten thus far. "Kaneki, you're already the strongest person I've ever met. You don't need to eat ghouls to get stronger. You don't need that."

"But I do."

"I won't stop you from believing it," Hide said. "But, also, you're wrong."

Kaneki took a deep breath. He let his hands drop into his lap, and he stared at Hide desperately.

"Why do you still care about me?" he asked. "Why don't you think I'm a monster?"

"Because I have known you," Hide laughed, "for most of my life. And honestly, Kaneki, looking back at the life I've lived so far, you've been the best part of it. You're not a monster to me, and you never will be."

Kaneki sat, utterly stunned.

How did Hide consistently manage to stun Kaneki into silence?

He was too kind by far.

There was something Kaneki wanted.

It was a future where he and Hide and Touka and Hinami and Mutsuki could all be together and be happy.

Just to imagine it made his hair stand on end.

"Why," Kaneki asked shakily, "do you always know _exactly_ what to say?"

Hide laughed. He winked, and clicked his fingers into a gun. "Talent," he teased.

"Bullshit," Kaneki sighed.

"Both!" Hide laughed delightedly, resting his hands back against the table as he kicked his feet into the air. Kaneki smiled.

And then he was sort of laughing too.

And then he was actually laughing. The laughter fell in short chuckles, rapid and vacant and wanting so much more. It fell away like husks of tulip bulbs, fluttering hollowly in the wind. It fell as he had fallen, a sharp and graceless decline that left him tumbling and stumbling.

When he laughed, the world didn't seem so heavy. His chest didn't seem so tight.

It was a strange and confusing sensation of his whole existence closing up and then falling open again.

But it was good to laugh.

To feel.

Even when the whole world seemed to be turning against him.

Hide bounced up and collapsed into the seat next to Kaneki.

"Mutsuki ended up okay?" Hide asked once they quieted down.

Kaneki blinked, rubbing the back of his hand over the bridge of his nose. He could smell the blood clinging to his skin.

"I guess that depends on how you define okay." Kaneki watched the bedroom door sadly. "Did he get hurt? Yes. Is he scared? Yes. Does he still trust me? Maybe. But he's alive, so I guess that must count for something."

"It does," Hide assured him.

Kaneki sighed, and he pulled his legs up to his chest, sliding his arms under his knees. "I'm a bad role model," he said distantly.

"No you're not," Hide sighed.

"I'm a bad parent," he continued, his chin resting on his knees. "I'm… I'm…"

"Kaneki," Hide said gently. "You know that my jokes about being Mutsuki's mom and dad are just that. They're jokes. We're not old enough to understand what parenting is like, let alone become that kind of substitute for a teenager. We're still teenagers ourselves. You can't feel responsible."

"But I am!" Kaneki shook his head furiously. "You don't get it, Hide, this time I really am responsible! I disregarded Mutsuki's feelings when I took that file. I breached his trust, and now he's hurt because of my mistake."

"I don't think it was just the file, Kaneki," Hide sighed.

"What do you mean?"

Hide glanced at him. His smile was tight and thin, and he groaned. "Gosh," he mumbled. "Why do I always gotta explain everything? Look, it's like… it's like World War I."

"Huh?" Kaneki asked flatly.

"The War to End All Wars," Hide said in a soothing little voice that reminded Kaneki of story time at the library when he'd been small. "What caused it?"

Kaneki thought for a second before answering tentatively. "The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand," he said. "Everyone knows that."

"Wrong!" Hide flicked Kaneki's forehead. "Pay attention in history class, you lit nerd."

"No, that's right," Kaneki gasped. "That's literally what happened. God, what are you on about now?"

Hide laughed, and it sounded vaguely evil, like he was mimicking a cartoon villain. "Everybody knows the surface trigger of World War I, but that's not the reason it started. World War I was the accumulation of tension between the vying powers of Europe and the rest of the world at that time. Dude, one guy getting killed can be reconciled if the countries _want_ to talk peace. But nobody wanted peace. The death of one guy just sent off a chain reaction, and gave the world an excuse to mobilize after years of cocking their guns."

Kaneki sat like a diligent student, listening to Hide talk excitedly about history with slight awe. He'd never really realized that Hide was so passionate about this stuff.

"That's cool," Kaneki said. "But what does it have to do with me?"

"Mutsuki is Europe," Hide explained slowly, "and that file was Archduke Franz Ferdinand's assassination. Boom!" Hide's fingers were a gun flicked in Kaneki's face, shooting violently. "World War I!"

"That's a little extreme," Kaneki said.

"It's just a metaphor. Learn to take a hint, former lit major." Hide smirked, and he leaned back against the couch, tilting his chin up toward the ceiling. "Mutsuki had problems before you stole that file. He had problems before you even met him. This isn't about you, Kaneki."

"You said that before," Kaneki murmured.

"And I'll say it again," Hide said firmly, bolting up straight. "Listen to me speak. Understand my words. I need you to wrap that stubborn fucking brain around it. Mutsuki's problems are because of things that you have zero control over. This is not your fault, Kaneki, because this is not about you. It can't be about you."

Kaneki glanced at him, his eyes wide and his shoulders hunching. He felt so bad about it. About all of it. About the file, about the secrets, about Tsukiyama, about the ghoul restaurant, about the ghouls that had been eaten, about Mutsuki's tears. It was all so bad. And Hide was trying to convince him that none of it was his fault?

That was illogical!

"Oh," Kaneki murmured, closing his eyes. "Oh. Oh, this is awful."

"You can't change somebody's past, Kaneki." Hide smiled, and he shook his head. "Please just accept this. It'll be better for everyone involved if you stop putting everything on yourself."

Kaneki let out a shaky breath. He was thinking, and it was making his whole body shiver. He was thinking, and he wanted it to stop. He was thinking, and he was remembering, and he was wishing that he could change his own past. Selective remembering was easy when there wasn't something to trigger the bad, bad, bad things.

Because Kaneki had had a thought.

It made his stomach churn.

"I'm just like my mother," he whispered to the stars.

And beside him, one responded.

"No you're not."

He had spent lifetimes making revolutions around this sun that could not stand still.

He would never understand it.

It was almost too much. Sometimes, to just sit beside him, it was just too fucking bright, and Kaneki needed to close up for a while. Just a little while.

Why could he never have day and night simultaneously?

He would love an eclipse right about now.

Where the sun and the moon could meet before him, and stay with him, and enthrall him.

He wished for things that he could never have, and it killed him inside.

"How can you say that?" Kaneki breathed.

"How can _you_ say that?" Hide countered.

"I—!" Kaneki flushed, and he felt dizzy with a sense that he'd lost something over time and space. "I don't know!"

"You are not like your mother," Hide said calmly, rising to his feet. "Please don't ever say something like that again."

"You didn't even know my mother," Kaneki murmured.

"I didn't have to know her well to know that you're being unfair to yourself by comparing you to her."

"She wasn't…" Kaneki found himself at a loss as the memories blurred together and left him tired and dry.

Hide watched him levelly. There was a growing rift between them as this conversation went on and on, the silence blanketing the space like freshly fallen snow. There was a chill here, in a place between knowing and not knowing, in a stream of memories that seemed so real, so happy and safe, but were not all so happy and not all so safe. He was drowning in the uncertainties.

"You can still love her," Hide said in a voice that sounded like he was striking a bargain with a demon, "and criticize her too. She wasn't a perfect person, Kaneki."

"Neither am I."

"But the difference here is," Hide sighed, "is you know better."

"I really don't know anything," Kaneki said. "I just keep making the same mistakes. Maybe even her mistakes. Hide, did my mother love me?"

"Why are you asking me something like that?"

Kaneki was struck by his own foolishness.

Anxiety was folding over him.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I just can't remember that well. Did she care about me? I can't remember. Oh, oh, oh…" Kaneki chuckled to himself, whisking his fingers through his hair and throwing his head back. His fingers clawed at his scalp while his thumbs struck his eyelids, applying pressure to the eyeball beneath it. "Why didn't this kill me?"

Hide was silent.

Silence and silence and silence.

Then, with a tentative sort of tug, Kaneki was pulled into a one armed hug. His head hit Hide's shoulder, and the pressure was lifted from his eyes.

Kaneki pried his hands away.

"Why are you hugging me?" he whispered.

Hide's fingers dug into Kaneki's bicep, tight and biting, and the look on his face was a cross between amused and absolutely stricken. "I don't know what else to do," he admitted.

"Say something," Kaneki said. "Say anything."

"I don't think you want to hear the words I have to say."

"Say it anyway."

Hide was watching something that was not Kaneki's face. His eyes had swiveled to the place Mutsuki had found. Between the corner of the room and the corner of memory.

"Parents who don't teach their children to love themselves don't deserved to be loved." Hide met Kaneki's eye, and he smiled. "Learn to love yourself, Kaneki, and let her go."

Kaneki exhaled shakily. His words were floating on the surface of his brain, waiting to sink in. "She was my mother," he said dully.

"You can love her without becoming her." Hide unwound his arm from Kaneki's shoulders, and he let his hands fall into his lap. His eyes were downcast as they searched them for answers. "When you're little, your parents are… infallible. No matter how many mistakes they make, no matter what cruel thing they do to you, you rationalize that it must be the right thing because they're your parents. But when you grow up, you get a sense of how human they actually are. Kaneki, your mom died when you were too young to see the flaws in her, so you've grown up stuck with this idea that everything she ever did must have been in the right even though I know you know she was wrong more often than not. Just accept it."

"Are you telling me I need to grow up?" Kaneki whispered.

"I'm telling you that one day you are going to wake up," Hide warned, "and you are going to look into the mirror, and you are going to see your mother looking back at you. And you will hate yourself."

"You told me I'm not like her," Kaneki snorted, glaring away at a wall.

"Not quite," Hide said with a little laugh and a little smile. "Not yet."

"What should I do?" Kaneki shifted, facing Hide fully and folding his legs beneath him. "Tell me how to avoid it."

Hide looked a little remorseful, his smile stretched thin as he shook his head sadly.

"I wish I could tell you," he said. "But even I can't know for sure how to avoid becoming our parents."

Kaneki wanted to understand. He wanted to know how to stop himself from becoming the person getting hurt.

But this was a cycle that would never end.

* * *

The room was bone white. Her shoes were coal black. And everything was matte, like it had run over by thousand yards of sandpaper.

She got to her knees, and she touched the ground. It was soft like feathers. The floor shifted beneath her, morphing to her touch. She smiled and laid down in it, her arms stretching out and letting the feathers stitch around her, accumulating into a bed of wings.

"I'm so happy," she sighed to the wings.

The sky replied to her.

"Sing me a hymn."

She rose, and the wings folded against her back.

"I can't sing," she said cautiously. "Can't I do something else for you?"

"Please," the sky sighed, "sing me a hymn."

"I can do something else for you." She was floating, her matte black shoes toeing the edge of pool. "I can bring you treasure."

"Sing me a hymn. Please, please, please."

"Let me bring you treasure." She kicked the shoes away. They clattered like rocks against a shore. "It's here. I can swim to it."

"Oh," sighed the sky, "oh, oh… just sing me a hymn… you're too young to die. You can't swim."

Her feet were swallowed up by the cold pool. She glared at the sky, and she scoffed. "Liar," she murmured.

And then the water sucked her down.

There were hands around her ankles and arms around her waist and faces pressed into her neck.

 _Love me_ , they sobbed. Voices in a void. _Love me, love me_!

They toyed with her wings, their sobs becoming the water and drowning her out.

The wings were weighing her down.

Across from her, floating in the pool of sobs, her brother twisted and screamed and snarled as the hands circled his neck, the faces nuzzled his chest, the fingers ringed his ankles. They were both bogged down by the shrieking, writhing force of _love me, love me, love me_.

There was still treasure to be found.

Were they both searching for it?

"I can swim," she whispered.

She watched her brother tear himself apart. The hands, his hands, were ripping open his chest, pulling apart the skin and prying open his ribs, and a hurricane of inky black feathers poured out.

If she wanted to scream, she found she couldn't.

The hands were smothering her. She wanted to scream, to squirm, to cry.

But then they deposited her onto the shiny mirror floor, and through the waves of sobs, she saw it.

Treasure.

The moment her feet touched the floor, the treasure disappeared behind it. She blinked, watching her reflection on the mirror tile. It was ragged and confusing, black ink plastered across her cheeks where her unruly hair fell in tufts. Too bony and wiry, too sharp and shadowy. She knelt down and let her fingers drag over the mirror's surface.

She lifted her hands up into two fists, and she brought them down upon the floor.

The mirror cracked.

She did it again, and the mirror shattered.

The shards blew across her eyes, darting the air like stars.

She dug through the sea of glittering glass, and she pulled the treasure out.

Then she offered it out toward the sky.

"Take it," she said. Her hands here raw and bloody from digging through the glass.

The sky watched her.

He took the still beating heart, and it thudded in his fist.

"What do I do with this?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "It just seems like a thing you need."

The sky cupped the heart in his hand. He opened his mouth, and he swallowed it whole.

Her brain was shocked awake, jolted by the starkness of her dream. It had all been in black and white except for the blood. Had there been blood? She couldn't remember now, but she felt sort of sick to her stomach. Her discomfort only grew as she became more acquainted with her surroundings, and felt that she was lying on the ground. Now why the hell was that?

Touka's mind swam. She couldn't quite think of why that might be.

Until it all came flooding back.

Her eyes snapped open, eyelids peeling back, breath catching in her throat. Her vision swam, and her body felt stiff and weak. Her mouth tasted distinctly of blood, warm and sweet on the back of her tongue, lingering tauntingly as though to tease her for not enjoying whatever meal had been forced on her.

The whole world looked bleary. Half bright, with light smudging the contours of the room, illuminating the great walls of dust that swirled between the boards on the windows.

The warehouse.

Aogiri Tree.

It was swimming in her brain, this idea that she could be part of something that she hated so fucking much.

This wasn't the windowsill where she normally made her bed, however. This was a completely separate room, a place she had not been in before. It was wide and vacuous, stretching emptily from wall to wall. Debris was swept up into a corner and discarded. Dust swam like a smoke screen.

She shifted, and found that she was actually lying on a mat. It was mildly uncomfortable, but better than what she'd become accustomed to here. She rolled onto her side, her ratty blanket falling from her shoulders.

And she found herself face to face with Ayato.

To say she was frozen in shock was an understatement. Her bones were on ice, and she could feel the icicles forming on her lashes. She held her breath, staring intently at his soft, serene looking face as he slept soundly beside her. Aside from the slight furrow of his brow, he looked so calm and at peace. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ever seen him look so sweet. His mouth was parted slightly, his exhalations steady and heavy, his chest rising and falling evenly. He was using his arm and a rolled up sweatshirt as a pillow, his body curling close to the mat as though he'd gotten cold in the night. And she couldn't blame him.

Her breath came out in puffs.

She touched the ratty, threadbare blanket gingerly. It was scratchy and thin, but it did its job.

 _Did he… give this to me…_? She didn't want to sit up in fear that she might wake him.

His hair was curling around his cheeks, his breath creating small clouds beneath his nose. His hand, the one not coiled under his arm, was resting in the space between their heads, half on the mat, half on the ground.

This was a wave of déjà vu that she would never escape from.

This feeling, like she'd been cast into a shivery memory.

She had lived this scene a hundred times.

How many times had she laid in the dark at home, watching the empty bed across from her and wishing to return to this moment? This hundred time moment?

It was scary how much you could miss someone who, at one point, you'd thought you could never lose.

Who, at one point, you thought you could never miss.

Who, at this point, shouldn't be missed at all.

Touka slipped from beneath the blanket, crawling onto the cool concrete and wincing. It felt like ice against her bare skin, and Ayato had made his bed on it. How?

She dragged herself to her feet, dizzy with lethargy, and she patted her stomach. The wound had disappeared, probably due to the food given to her. She hadn't wanted it, but there was no use complaining. It had probably saved her a lot of pain.

When she searched the room for her bag, she found it was nowhere in sight. Great. She had to go search for it and hope none of the little gremlins of Aogiri had gotten their nasty paws on her shit. Great. Fucking perfect.

Touka ran her fingers through her hair, and she tugged at her bloodstained shirt. There was a gaping hole in the center that showed off her navel. A nice gesture, but not practical or stylish. She'd have to change it.

She found a duffle bag in the corner opposite from the debris filled with clothing. She shrugged off her coat and peeled the shirt off, snatching a baggy black graphic tee shirt and tugging it over her head. It had a band name on it.

Ayato probably hated it anyway.

She pulled her jacket back on, shivering a little as she tip toed back to the mat and picked up the blanket. The sun was blurring Ayato's face, making him look vaguely angelic. What a dirty liar light made itself to be.

Touka gently threw the blanket over Ayato's tense shoulders. She waited for him to relax before she walked out of the room.

Of course, she wasn't sure what to do now, so she went to go see Tatara.

"Well," he stated as she walked through the door, "you certainly look better."

"Cut the shit," she said, striding right up to him and staring down at him. He was sitting, looking up at her dully. "What's my punishment for fighting Tsukiyama?"

"Punishment?" Tatara's eyes narrowed. He leaned back in his chair, and he nodded slowly. "Ah. I see. So Ayato lied."

"What?" Touka's heart seized.

What the fuck had she just done?

Tatara shrugged. "He said the mission took a turn for the worse when an old rival recognized him. And that you got caught in the fray when you tried to stop it. Is that not true?"

She folded her arms across her chest and scowled. "Well it's not _untrue_ ," she remarked. "But he left out some shit. Like how it was my idea."

"He also mentioned something about a one eyed ghoul." Tatara rose to his feet, causing Touka to take several steps back. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Touka didn't know if her face had betrayed her terror, but she did her goddamn fucking best, man.

"One eye…?" She squinted at him. "What?"

 _Kaneki or Mutsuki_ , she thought wildly as Tatara squinted right back. Her heart was pounding. He must hear it, and must know that she was lying. _Kaneki or Mutsuki. One of them has gotten noticed. This isn't going to work._

She was scared that Tatara could read her thoughts.

Her palms were sweating, and she was scared that this asshole was a mind reader because he had a chance to ruin everything.

"Did no one explain," Tatara said, sounding amused, "about the One Eyed King?"

"Nope," she said flatly. She smirked at him. "Don't tell me it's you."

"If it were me, little Kirishima, we would not be having this conversation. Sit down."

"What?" Touka glanced at either side of him. There was that empty space where Eto liked to sit. That was where Tatara was gesturing.

"Sit," he said.

So Touka sat.

"You know better than Ayato," Tatara observed. "You don't make a fuss about menial orders. However, I find you to be troublesome."

Touka sat with her legs crossed. She couldn't even look up at him. What was she doing on the floor? What was this supposed to fucking prove, anyway?

"Do you know why?"

She considered her options. Unfortunately, her list of character flaws was a mile long.

"It could be anything," she admitted. "I'm too rash, too soft, too eager to fight, too stubborn to back off, too much of an outsider. Whatever. It's all the same."

"No," Tatara said. "You should find yourself wishing you had some sameness to you. If you were boring, you could blend in better. But, Kirishima, boring is an ugly color on you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked uncomfortably.

Tatara paused. "I'm not sure," he said. "It is something Eto said."

Touka considered that. She frowned deeply. "Eto isn't here right now," she said. "Why would she say that about me?"

"Pick her brain for answers," Tatara said. "See how far you get."

Touka leapt to her feet. "You know what," she said fiercely, "maybe I will!"

Tatara watched her. His dull, heavily lidded eyes followed her as she stomped away.

"That," he remarked, "is exactly what Eto meant."

Touka froze at the door, her boot scraping against the wood mid-stomp. She considered turning to look back at him, but she knew that would only give him the satisfaction.

So she kept on walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frendo, frendere, frendui. [intr]  
> to gnash the teeth.


	20. intertrimentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so ends the holiday. not sure what updates are going to look like, but i'll try my best. as for the chapter, i tried my hand at a few characters i'm not that familiar with, so i hope i did them justice.

They didn't speak. It was a vacuous sort of silence— the kind that took a second to manifest and a decade to fill up. It was heavy, and it was barren, and it left them both feeling like complicated disasters. They didn't speak. And the day rolled past without a word between them.

And then another day passed.

And then another.

Mutsuki didn't avoid him. On the contrary, he made a point to appear. However, he never opened his mouth and acknowledged Kaneki's presence.

And Kaneki found himself at a loss for words.

He _wanted_ to say something. He thought that it might make them both feel better if they just talked about it some more. But they were both scared and ashamed of who they were and what they'd done, so no words were exchanged and no conversation was had.

So Mutsuki woke up, made himself some toast, met Kaneki's eye for a small stretch of time before focusing on the task at hand. It was just a repeat of the same old motions, but he acted like he'd never done it before over and over. Kaneki didn't let his eyes linger. He didn't want to stare.

Mutsuki ate. He left to get dressed. Kaneki got dressed. They both headed out in silence.

Finally Kaneki couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"I'm going to the first branch today," he blurted. They were coming close to the subway station, and Mutsuki's feet clicked softly against the sidewalk. Morning sounds chattered away inside their ears, rushing cars and beeping, and quick paced steps, and soft twittering of birds in far off trees, and children laughing nearby. "You're welcome to come with me."

Mutsuki stood and stared.

He clutched the hem of his coat tightly. "No," he said hoarsely, as though he had not spoken in months. "I'm okay. I have a lot of paperwork to do."

"Oh. Okay." Kaneki blinked. Mutsuki nodded. "So I guess we're going different ways, then?"

"I guess." Mutsuki glanced away. His fingers tightened their grip on the hem. He sighed deeply. "I… Kaneki. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Kaneki said. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Mutsuki's eye was dim and sad.

His fingers caused the fabric of his coat to bunch up between his hands.

He turned around and began to walk away. Kaneki felt so defeated. Would things ever be the same?

Then Mutsuki turned around sharply.

"Kaneki," he called from about three yards away. "I think I lied. I think I'm scared of you."

It was a troubling feeling to know your heart was sinking like the Titanic.

He had to swallow hard before he replied.

"Is that right?" He averted his gaze. He took a deep breath. "Maybe… that's for the best."

"I don't want to be scared of you, and I don't want to kill you," Mutsuki said. He was throwing these words to the wind. "But all I can see is you in that mask, with the blood smeared around your mouth and all over your hands, and I can't get it out of my head! How could you do that? Killing ghouls is one thing, but why would you eat them?"

"This isn't the time," Kaneki said, turning away sharply, "or place."

"I—!" Mutsuki sounded breathless and desperate. "Wait. Don't go just yet! I want to talk about this _now_ or I'll never work up the courage again! Kaneki—!"

Kaneki turned around. He held his briefcase loosely in one hand, and stared at the boy dully.

"I ate them because I was angry," he said. "And I was scared. I didn't know if I'd be able to save you. No— I knew I couldn't. So I started eating. And eating. And eating. And it felt so hard to stop. I don't remember when it began or when it ended. It's all a blur, and I made a mess of everything. I just wanted to be strong enough."

"You were strong before that," Mutsuki insisted.

"To be strong," Kaneki said dryly, "you have to be willing to give yourself up completely. You make endless sacrifices. I just wanted to get to you. To help you."

"You did," Mutsuki said.

"Maybe this time." Kaneki's grip on his briefcase tightened. He turned on his heel. "I won't always be here to save you, Mutsuki. You have to learn how to save yourself."

He didn't stick around for Mutsuki's response.

Yes, it was cruel, but Kaneki feared the day when he would be too late. If he'd had even an ounce of hope that Mutsuki could have gotten himself out of the ghoul restaurant, would he have resorted to eating?

It was difficult to tell if he'd been telling the truth or if he was really just sick and cannibalistic.

The subway was becoming more and more familiar to him. He just stood, held on to a pole, and let the specter of his reflection flicker in the shaky black glass of the window. He was a ghost here, a ghost of his potential that had waned and waned and waned as the years drew by.

What had he wanted? Before all of this had made his life hell?

A literature degree. For what? What had been his goal?

He couldn't even remember now.

What was beyond this? This life of grief and sorrow and tragedy?

Nothing.

He felt like there was no before or after. Just this hollow in-between state that he lived so thoroughly in.

He got to the first branch headquarters relatively early. He had time to kill.

When Kaneki entered the bathroom, the first thing he did was check his reflection. And boy oh boy! He looked like shit. He touched the sallow skin beneath his left eye. It wasn't even the beaten mauve color that the dark circles tended to be. No, it was like a bruise had half healed, and his eyelids were a mismatch of ugly yellow and deep purple shadow. On top of that, his complexion was eerily pale, and his hair was an absolute mess. Tufts of black were strewn across his forehead and around his ears. He had not brushed it that morning, or the morning before, or the morning before, or the morning— ah.

Was this laziness? Or something else?

His stomach growled, and he glowered at the mirror. He had the urge to punch it.

He lifted his fist and gingerly pressed it to the cool surface of the mirror. His shoulders hunched, and he bowed his head, listening to his deep breaths rattle in the empty room. How hard was it, exactly, to live? To just live? If he was asking for a sign to keep moving, he'd fallen flat on his face before he could see it.

The door creaked open, and Kaneki knew he should pull back and pull himself together, but he couldn't.

There was so much at stake here. Mutsuki, Touka, and peace all hung in the balance because of Kaneki's unsteady hand stitching up words and lies and tangling them all in his fucked up fate.

"Are you alright, young man?"

Kaneki dropped his fist from the mirror, and he instead gripped the porcelain ledge of the sink. He raised his head to send the older man a tight smile. "I'm fine, sir," he said.

"You look ill," he observed. Kaneki stiffened as he pressed the back of his hand to Kaneki's forehead. It was cool and bony. "Hm, warmer than usual… are you from a junior academy? I can bring you back."

"I'm a ghoul investigator," Kaneki told the man weakly, blinking up at his face. He had a warm, genial presence that suggested he was very worried and might do something drastic because of that.

"… Are you?" The man seemed taken aback. "Really?"

"Unfortunately," Kaneki sighed.

"I'm sorry," the man said, withdrawing his hand. "I thought you were much younger. You looked about my son's age, so I assumed—"

"It's fine." Kaneki waved offhandedly. "I know I look like a high schooler. Maybe one day it'll benefit me."

"Ah." The man smiled. "You'll be thankful for it when you're my age. Youth flies by."

"Yeah," he agreed somberly.

"You really should take a day to yourself, though," the man advised.

"Maybe some other time." Kaneki ran his fingers through his hair, and he glanced at his tired reflection. "I have stuff to do."

"Your health is more important."

"I sincerely doubt the CCG would agree with that," Kaneki said, smiling grimly up at the man. "Thank you for caring, though."

The man seemed puzzled. Then, tentatively, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Kaneki Ken." It was like watching a gear click into place. "Guess word gets around about me."

"You're an interesting case." The man looked suddenly distant and difficult to read. It seemed like there was so much going on in his head that he couldn't let out. "What are you doing here, at the first branch?"

"Dealing with my mistakes," he said dully, "as usual."

"Seems like a thankless effort."

"It is," Kaneki admitted. "But I have to pay for being who I am. Anyway, thanks a lot…?"

"Urie," the man said cautiously. Kaneki did a double take. He recognized the name from somewhere, but he couldn't quite recall where. Anyway, it was a family name, so it couldn't mean too much. There were probably hundreds of Uries in the city.

"Nice to meet you," Kaneki said, bowing his head respectfully. "Thank you very much."

He walked out without another word. He felt jittery and uncertain, like he'd just been on a stage and now had to soothe his nerves.

As he was walking up the stairs, a young girl cut him off.

"Hello," she said in a dreamy little voice that reminded him of a fairy, high and distant and ringing like a bell from the top of the highest tower that stood twenty kilometers away. "Kaneki Ken, right?"

"That's right," he said, frowning at her. She was wearing a school uniform, her hair soft looking and light hued, tied back with a number of pins. She had a briefcase in her hands. Her uneven bangs fell into her droopy eyes.

"Oh," she sighed with a soft smile, "I thought so! You really do look so young. Has Ui talked to you about undercover work yet?"

"What?"

"Suppose not," she laughed, swinging back on her heels and bouncing her briefcase against her thigh. "You should ask him. It's not so bad, honestly. We could go together and ask!" She hooked her arm through his and began leading him up the stairs. "I'm supposed to be on duty right now, but I had to submit a report. Have you gotten around to that yet? I know you're new."

"I am," he said, glancing at her bemusedly. She was young looking, her face round and full of the long faded youth that Urie had talked about. Her eyes were very dull, however. Kaneki felt they lacked a spark of anything. There was no passion in her airy voice or in her glassy eyes.

It was like he was being escorted by a girl long dead, and her body had not quite realized it yet.

"It must be so jarring," she said, "to adjust to this. What is it like, being you? I've asked a few different people since it's all been spilled out in the open. But you know, they all told me to keep my mouth shut. Should I keep my mouth shut?"

She was testing him, he realized. She was testing the waters of how much she could push him until he snapped at her. Proved he was really a ruthless ghoul.

He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"I think you have no qualms about saying what you want to say," Kaneki told her curtly. "If someone wanted to stop you, that'd be their own problem. Um, sorry, but I don't think I caught your name."

She paused mid-step. It occurred to Kaneki that not even she knew where she was taking him. And then she laughed for real, a soft little giggle that sounded strange and uncertain, plucked from her chest and deposited gently upon his shoulders. "Ah, that might help. I'm Ihei Hairu."

"I'd ask if you're scared of me, but it's pretty clear that's not that case." Kaneki pried his arm from hers and faced her fully. "I can't tell what your real intentions are, and that's fine, I guess. I don't really care, even if your plan was to lure me out into an alley and kill me. I mean, I couldn't blame you, really."

Ihei stood with her knuckles white against the handle of her briefcase. She eyed him, no real emotion backing her gaze, and she smiled.

"I'd kill you," she admitted. "Gladly. Is that what you want?"

Kaneki felt cold all of a sudden.

"I don't know what I want," he said.

Ihei's giggle dusted the air.

"Then," she said airily, "I guess I won't kill you. Yet."

"Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome!" She patted his shoulder as though reassuringly. "I really was serious about undercover work. We, the young ones, gotta stick together." She winked, and she stretched her arms above her head. Her briefcase bounced against her arm. "Gosh, I'm late, I think. Oh well. Do you wanna get breakfast?"

"I have a meeting," he admitted.

"After?" She checked her watch. "I can be late. Or just not show up. High school is fun."

"I can't say I entirely agree, but if you say so." He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry. Um, do you really want to?"

"I wouldn't bother asking if I didn't," she said innocently. Her voice carried itself away. "I think it'd be a good time. Don't you? Like I said, young ones like us, we gotta stick together."

"You seemed pretty interested in killing me about a minute ago."

"That was a minute ago, and now is now," Ihei said breezily. "Say yes. Let's go!"

Kaneki didn't even know how to respond to this.

So he just said, "Okay."

And she just cocked her head, and shrugged her shoulders up to her ears.

"Nice," she said.

And then she walked away from him.

It took Kaneki a solid minute before he could move forward again. It had been a strange encounter to begin with. He didn't want to dwell on it.

Yoshitoki's voice was unbearably cheery when he called, "Come in." Kaneki opened the door to the office and shut it behind him, stepping up to the man's desk. "Oh my, you look like death."

"The desired effect," Kaneki joked mildly, causing the man to laugh. It was nice that Yoshitoki had a sense of humor. He sat down cautiously. "I need to ask, since I know you read Mutsuki's file. Is he okay? Do I…" Kaneki's eyes found their way toward the corner of the room and the corner of his memory. "Should I be doing something differently? I feel like I'm doing something wrong."

"Why is that?" Yoshitoki's brow raised. "Because he ran away?"

"Well, yes, but it's more than just that." Kaneki wrung his hands nervously. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do. Usually I'd just… let him sort out what's bothering him on his own. But I feel so responsible…"

"Kaneki," Yoshitoki said gently, "you are not responsible for Mutsuki Tooru's sadness."

"I don't believe that."

Yoshitoki watched him with a vague, soft gaze, and he sighed. "Okay," he relented, holding up his hands. "I get it. You want to be able to help him. Comfort him. But, Kaneki, his problems are so beyond you. Listen, if you want I can recommend a psychiatrist. I don't think Mutsuki would like that, though."

Kaneki thought back to the medical reports. The psychiatric ward.

"No," he admitted. "He wouldn't."

"Here is my recommendation," Yoshitoki said, holding up one finger. "Speak to him. Let him open up at his own pace. Don't push him away or belittle him. Don't try to control him. Just be there for him, and I think that will make all the difference."

Kaneki bowed his head, listening to his words and trying to comprehend them. _Don't push him away_. Easier said than done.

"I hope you're right," Kaneki murmured. "It would be an unbearable thing to hurt him again."

Yoshitoki's smile was thin and small, the faintest hint of it pulling at the corners of his lips. He closed his eyes, and he moved his head, and when he did, he looked infinitely older.

And then he changed the subject.

"You had something for me?"

"Oh!" Kaneki pulled the folded up scrap of paper from his pocket. "Right. Special delivery. Aogiri names."

"Names." Yoshitoki looked actually a little surprised. He reached over the desk and plucked the paper from Kaneki's fingers. "No kidding. Real names?"

"Hell if I know." Kaneki leaned back in his seat. "The kanji will probably be off since the informant can't exactly ask how to spell them."

"Fair enough." Yoshitoki unfolded the paper and glanced it over. His eyes greedily slid from right to left, his chin lowering toward his chest as he consumed each and every stroke of Touka's pen with delight. "Tatara. Noro. Eto… Yamori…" Yoshitoki covered his mouth and chin, and Kaneki suspected he was hiding a smile. "I need to think about this. I'll need more information to put these names to ours. If we can put faces to them, that would be better."

"My friend will get on that," Kaneki said.

"Your friend?"

Kaneki froze. He looked up at Yoshitoki and he opened his mouth to hastily correct himself.

"I won't tell if you won't," Yoshitoki said, holding up the scrap of paper and smirking. "Partner in crime, look at the mess we're in. You think I'm in any position to judge?"

"Why do you accept it," Kaneki uttered vacantly, "so readily? Aren't you going to… to condemn me for it? A ghoul as a friend. How absurd."

"Your existence has shaken up my mindset." Yoshitoki winked. "Besides, friend is a better word than informant. Friend means you trust them."

"I do trust them."

Yoshitoki eyed him, and his smile softened. "Then I am very sorry," he said, "that I have put them in this position."

"Just make good on your promise," Kaneki sighed. "Just… just protect my friend, when the time comes. Please. Even if you have to choose between them and me. If you have to save one of us, save my friend."

"That's not a reasonable bargain."

"I'm not a reasonable person."

Yoshitoki laughed. "You've got me there!" He laid his hands out against the table, his smile bright. "How would I justify such a choice?"

"I don't know, sir," Kaneki replied. "You seem pragmatic, I'm sure you'd figure something out."

"Ha!" Yoshitoki leaned back in his chair and cupped his chin. "You have absolutely zero regard for your own life."

"Yes, that's true." Kaneki thumbed the edge of the desk, unable to meet the man's eye. "I figured that might be why the CCG tolerates me."

"Harsh," Yoshitoki said. He didn't deny it, though. "Now, didn't you have an additional proposition for me?"

Kaneki had to think about it.

"I might have another ghoul," he admitted.

"Oh?"

"Tentative yes?" Kaneki offered, raising his eyes and smiling weakly. "I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure about it. I know I should wait, see how well this works out before I get ahead of myself. But it's a possibility that we can weigh in."

"Explain." Yoshitoki leaned forward, resting his chin on top of his folded hands. His eyes could probably tear the thoughts from Kaneki's head and spool them up in the empty space between them.

"I know someone who would be willing, probably," Kaneki sighed, grimacing a bit. "The only problem is… I trust this person infinitely less than I do the ghoul we planted in Aogiri. It would be a bigger gamble."

"You know I'm a gambling man."

"You might not like the odds," Kaneki said. He pressed his lips together, and he smiled at Yoshitoki. He had to play this game, this façade of ease and contentment that this man played up so well. He couldn't be intimidated.

If Kaneki faltered now, what would become of him? Of Touka? Of this new world beginning to creep over the horizon?

"May I ask," Yoshitoki said, "how you find these ghouls?"

"Charisma."

Yoshitoki's laughter was easy and light, dusting the room like fresh snow. "I suppose your secrets deserve to stay that way. You are not obligated to tell me everything— though to be fair, it might be dangerous for me not to know."

"I can take that chance."

"But can I?" Yoshitoki's brow rose quizzically. "Think about it. Think about what I'm betting on you."

"You're betting your legacy on me," Kaneki told him coolly, "but I'm betting my life on you. Pull through, sir. Don't let me down."

"Do you not trust me, Kaneki?" Yoshitoki feigned a hurt look, his brow knitting together shortly before he burst into a short fit of chuckles. "Oh, you really are tense. Please lighten up. My recommendation is to gain this ghoul's trust before they gain yours. Once that is accomplished, plant the seeds of this objective."

"Most ghouls don't bite at the idea of working for the CCG," Kaneki sighed. _But Tsukiyama is not most ghouls_ , he thought bitterly. _He'd probably love the idea. Oh, oh, oh, I should have let him fucking die._

"Nicely put," Yoshitoki said delightedly. Kaneki realized it was because of the pun he'd made. That had been unintentional, but he appreciated the gesture. "How did you get our mutual friend to bite?"

"I didn't." He frowned, looking away from Yoshitoki. "I had a different ghoul in mind, but… I don't know. My friend… is very hard to understand."

"I see. And you say you do trust them?"

"Sir," Kaneki said, looking sharply into Yoshitoki's soft black eyes. He reminded Kaneki of an old dog. Worn from too much love and too much heartache. "I would gladly die for them. Please don't take that lightly, I really mean it."

Yoshitoki studied him, his smile genial and perpetual as the open road. "I hate to say it," he said, "but that is exactly what I'm afraid of. I've said this before, but you need to hear it again. We don't want you to die, Kaneki."

"You won't want me to live, if my friend dies when you could save them." Kaneki knew the dullness of his own voice, the way his whole body tensed and his eyes narrowed tiredly.

"I don't appreciate the threat," Yoshitoki said with a playful frown. "I'm only trying to be a friend."

Kaneki shot him a cool stare. Yoshitoki's frown turned into a thin line, and he leaned back into his seat.

"I see," the man said. "I understand, Kaneki. You're very serious— but I am too. I don't intend on going back on my promise."

"Even when the whole CCG turns against you?"

"I pray it won't come to that."

"But say it does," Kaneki insisted. "Say you have to let this secret out into the open— you have the obligation to protect this ghoul. You can't put them in Cochlea either. That's not the deal."

"I'll do my best," Yoshitoki said.

"That's not good enough."

"It happens to be all I have at the moment," Yoshitoki said with a thin smirk. "And mind you, my best is quite a lot. I do have some authority here, Kaneki. The only person I would have to convince is my father."

For some reason, that chilled Kaneki. Because Yoshitoki seemed to be the Boss. The head of everything, the source of all this madness. And to think someone had authority over him… it was jarring. A faceless figure towering over the king like a god.

"You aren't asking to keep a puppy, sir," Kaneki said. "This is a ghoul. You can't make the excuses you made for me— I know them. I care about them. But I can't deny that they have done horrible things in their life."

"We have all done terrible things in our lives," Yoshitoki said.

"But the CCG," Kaneki argued for the sake of arguing, "are not ghouls."

"You have gotten me to think," Yoshitoki said, "that perhaps we might be looking at things at all the wrong angles. Someday I would very much like to meet your friend."

"I'm sure she would hate to meet you."

"Then it would be a treat for sure." Yoshitoki looked at Kaneki, and his smile was thin. "Before this talk on ethics goes any further, there is something you should know."

Uh oh.

Kaneki did not like the way the atmosphere was changing.

"What?" he asked anxiously. "Is it about my friend?"

"Your ghoul friend?" Yoshitoki laughed, perhaps at a joke that went beyond Kaneki. "No, no. This is an entirely different matter. I was expecting Mutsuki to be here, but I don't blame him for not being up to it."

Kaneki thought about the last conversation he'd had with Mutsuki, and his mouth went dry.

"Paperwork," he explained half-heartedly.

"It happens." Yoshitoki pulled a folder from his desk drawer, and he set it gingerly between them. "Before I tell you, I need you to know that none of this is up to you. You have zero authority over this matter, and you cannot act like you do. Understand? I'm merely telling up because I feel obligated to give you a forewarning."

Nervous knots coiled up inside his chest and around his stomach, and oh, oh, oh, he could not even hear the rattle of his own breath any longer.

"What is this?" he asked, glancing worriedly at the folder.

"This," Yoshitoki said, opening the folder slowly, "is an application we received yesterday. I know it's a little late to tell you, but Mutsuki isn't the sole candidate for the Quinx Project. Two junior academies were evaluated at the same time for possible recipients. There were multiple matches, but Mutsuki was the only one who responded immediately given the high risk surgery involved."

Kaneki sat in silence, hearing these words but not truly processing them.

"Why…?" he murmured, sinking low into his seat. "Why children?"

"I don't understand it either," Yoshitoki admitted. "But this is the only way to get results."

"It's cruel," Kaneki snapped.

"It's necessary."

"It is _not_ ," he hissed, his eyes narrowing. "No. Your curiosity is what's fueling this now. No. What do you have to say for yourself? Who the hell do you think you are, Emperor Frederick II? Akbar the Great? If you subject children to the madness of isolation, do you really expect them to unveil the secrets of god to you? No. I don't want to hear this."

Kaneki found himself on his feet and pacing, his fingers tangled in his hair.

"No," he repeated, "I don't want to hear this!"

"Please calm down, Kaneki."

"Tell me why you're experimenting on children, and I will!"

"It just produces the best results," Yoshitoki said evenly. "I'm not proud of this, but it is what it is, and it won't be changing."

Kaneki took a great gulp of a breath. He dragged his fingers through his hair, and he watched the wall desperately.

"How could you do this to someone else?" he whispered.

"Because," Yoshitoki replied, "your existence is the answer to an age old quarrel. And more of you will only solidify that."

Kaneki eyed him distrustfully.

"Would you rather have never met Mutsuki?" Yoshitoki offered.

"That's not what I'm saying."

"And I'm not saying what I have done here is right," the man sighed, "but I do think it's necessary. I'm doing my best to ensure that it benefits the lives of these kids. So please, Kaneki, sit down and read this."

Kaneki had to resist the urge to snap some choice profanities at him. It was difficult, his fingers tensing up as he clenched them. No cracking. Not this time.

He took the folder gingerly, pulling it close and glancing at the name on the application. He then let his eyes glide to the identification photo clipped onto the page. It was a boy he recognized immediately, if only for the horribly ugly crooked teeth that protruded sharply from his otherwise handsome mouth.

"Shirazu Ginshi," Kaneki read aloud.

The boy from the junior academy. The one that had stopped Kaneki.

His stomach turned in discomfort. So this boy, this happy looking kid with light in his face and laughter in his eyes, would become another mistake in a series of horrors.

"He will be officially accepted into the quinx within the week." Yoshitoki eyed him curiously. "However, there are many legal matters that need to be taken care of before he can have surgery."

"Okay." Kaneki didn't feel like reading any more of this, so he closed the folder and set it aside. "Fine. Great. Super."

"Your sarcasm is appreciated." Yoshitoki smiled vaguely, and he offered a shrug. "Like I said, there's not much that can be done. There will be more quinx, Kaneki, and you have to deal with that."

"Why?"

"Because you are an adult."

"Not quite," Kaneki told the man mildly.

"Well, compared to them you are," Yoshitoki laughed, and he rubbed his cheek absently with his knuckle. "Please at least _try_ to set a good example. Shirazu is quite different from Mutsuki. He will not imprint on you like a duckling."

"That is not what happened," Kaneki said weakly.

"That is essentially what happened." Yoshitoki smirked, and Kaneki sunk into his chair. He didn't like the idea of it, because it reminded him of his fear, that twinkling reminder that children struggled and bent and grew at awkward angles until suddenly they were old and their reflections mirrored the parents they'd broken their backs to avoid.

"I don't want this to happen," Kaneki said firmly.

"It's not your choice," Yoshitoki reminded.

"He seems like a happy kid. I don't want to be responsible for his suffering."

"You are not responsible, and he won't be suffering." Yoshitoki watched him, and he shook his head. "I'll admit we won't know how the surgery affects him until after, but looking at how Mutsuki turned out, it seems relatively low risk. He'll be fine."

"You can't promise that."

"No," the man said. "But I can choose not to assign him to the twentieth ward."

Kaneki was struck by a bout of silence that he could not quite fight.

Yoshitoki smiled at him sadly, and he pulled the folder away and tucked in in a drawer.

"That's all," he said. "You can be involved with Shirazu Ginshi's life, or you can be a stranger. It makes no difference to me."

Kaneki's fingernails dug into his palm.

"Why?" he said softly.

"He obviously does not mean much to you." Yoshitoki shrugged.

"That's not fair."

"Unfortunately, Kaneki, I can't always be _fair_ to you. If you want to feel bad about it, you can do that on your own time. Right now I need to know if I can rely on you to help this boy— _and_ Mutsuki."

"What?" Kaneki uttered. "What about Mutsuki? Are you saying if I fuck up—?"

"You are not his superior, so the responsibility is not on you," Yoshitoki said. "I don't want you to feel bad about it. But you have to realize that if Mutsuki can't handle his current arrangements, we're obligated to find a more suitable situation for him."

"He's okay living with me," Kaneki snapped. It was a lie and he knew it but he couldn't help it.

He really didn't want to lose Mutsuki.

He really, really did not want to lose Mutsuki.

Yoshitoki nodded cautiously. "I believe that Mutsuki cares about you," he said, "and that you care about him. But you have to understand that caring does not equate to a healthy environment."

"You told me this wasn't my fault," Kaneki whispered.

"It's _not_." Yoshitoki looked at him, and Kaneki could tell that he really meant it, but it just didn't seem right or fair. "You're not responsible for Mutsuki's instability. Right now, he's going through a tough time, and you understandably are not equipped to handle that."

"I'm trying," Kaneki gasped.

"I know that," Yoshitoki said gently, "I understand that. This is not something you should panic about. It's merely something you need to think about as time progresses. Do you think Mutsuki is happy with you?"

Kaneki didn't respond.

He _couldn't_.

And this hurt.

"Is it selfish of me," Kaneki said distantly, "to want him to stay?"

"It is very natural," Yoshitoki responded. "You bonded. That's easy to see. Listen to me very carefully. I'm not saying he _should_ move out. I'm just saying perhaps he should be given the option."

And Kaneki could not deny the logic of that.

 _Push and push and push again,_ a voice in his head sang. _Nobody loves you, nobody wants you, so let's, you and I, just be alone again._

The voice sounded an awful lot like Rize.

"I understand," Kaneki sighed, bowing his head. "I'm sorry for my outburst. Thank you for your time."

"It's not a problem."

Kaneki wanted to say more.

He wanted to object to the idea that Mutsuki might be happier somewhere else.

But the truth was he _couldn't say_ if that was true. Kaneki was scared that it wasn't. That he'd fucked things up beyond recognition. That Mutsuki would never be able to adjust to this.

Because Mutsuki was scared of him.

He was really, truly scared.

And Kaneki couldn't blame him.

He left the office feeling so much less than when he'd when he'd begun.

As he was walking toward the door, he was caught by the wrist.

"Did you think I wouldn't catch you?" a dreamy little voice asked.

He looked down at Ihei Hairu, and he searched her mischievous face.

"Were you waiting for me?" he asked bemusedly.

"I told you I would," she reminded. "Breakfast. Right? Ui said he'd come too!"

"Ui?"

"That would be me."

The man who had appeared beside Ihei was rather short, his face smooth and delicate like porcelain beneath a neatly trimmed bob. He glanced at Kaneki warily.

"Technically," Ihei sighed loftily, "he invited himself, but he'll probably report me for laziness if I don't let him come. You don't mind, right?"

"It's fine," Kaneki said. He didn't want to admit his discomfort, because it was clear from Ui's gaze that he wanted Kaneki to know that he did not trust him.

"I guess I'm just curious," Ui said. "After all, you won't be undercover for much longer. I had to wonder why you'd skip class, but now I see."

"Um," Kaneki said, glancing at Ihei confusedly. She merely smiled at him. "Hi. I'm Kaneki Ken."

"Yes, I'm aware," Ui said curtly. "Associate Special Class Ui Koori."

"Oh." Kaneki inwardly said _shit_.

"Oh?" Ui glanced him over. He then focused his attention on Ihei. "Let me be the first to admit that I think this is a terrible idea."

"And that is your opinion."

Ihei seemed delighted in a way that Kaneki could not fathom. He didn't know her, she didn't know him, and neither of them seemed particularly interested in emotionally investing themselves in a friendship. And yet she was beaming as much as her rather languid face could allow, and he was not objecting to this outing.

"Associate Special Class," Kaneki said cautiously, "I understand you probably have reservations about me."

"That's right." Ui watched him with his dark eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry. I won't pretend that I approve of you being here."

"I appreciate your honesty," Kaneki admitted. "But you have to understand that I'm not your enemy."

"If you were my enemy," Ui said curtly, "we would not be having this conversation."

Ihei covered her mouth and pronounced deeply, " _Yikes_."

"Shall we go, then?" Ui eyed Kaneki as he spoke. He clearly had some beef, but was too polite to really start anything.

"We're waiting for one other person," Ihei said brightly.

Ui looked down at her sharply. He studied her face, and then his eyes widened. "You did not," he murmured.

"Ahh," she sang sheepishly, gesticulating in semi-circles around her head. "I did… I _had_ to. He was right there. I had to!"

"I don't understand you," Ui stated. It was a sort of appreciative statement, his face softening a bit as he looked at her.

Kaneki wished he knew what was going on. He had a knot in his chest full of anxiety that told him he would regret this all sorely soon enough.

"Ah!" Ihei gasped, leaning against Kaneki's shoulder and pointing. "There he is! Good afternoon, Arima!"

Her sing-song _Arima-san_ reminded Kaneki of dissonant children tunes, nursery rhymes that ended with children being devoured or cursed or lost forever. The name sent ice skittering across his bones and lightning spiking through his veins and blood draining from his already pallid face.

So Death would accompany him on this fine day.

It was like a constant reminder than Kaneki should have, could have, would have died.

"I have to go," Kaneki said before he could stop himself.

"Oh no," Ihei said in a voice that was not nearly as enthusiastic as she probably meant to sound. "But you said you would!"

"I know." Kaneki was keenly aware of Ui's attentive stare. "I'm sorry, Ihei. Maybe some other time."

"Please come," Ihei insisted.

"I really can't," Kaneki insisted right back, stepping away from them. Arima was coming closer and closer and closer, and Kaneki could hear voices in his head whispering oh, oh, oh, what a beautiful day to die.

"Do you have a problem with Arima, Mr. Kaneki?" Ui asked coolly.

"I need to get back to my ward, sir. I have other things to do."

"Hm?" Ihei glanced between Ui and Kaneki, and her lip quirked mischievously. "Oh. Now, Kaneki, you really _must_ come. We're going to a bakery! It's so cute and quaint, you'd probably love it. You have a hipster vibe to you."

"I…"

"You aren't intimidated by Arima, are you?" Ihei asked innocently. "Well, I guess I can't blame you, but honestly. Give him a chance!"

"What are you saying about me, Ihei?"

"Nothing, sir," Ihei said with her fair folk smile lying devilishly on her lips. "Only good things."

Ui folded his arms across his chest. He rolled his eyes subtly and nodded curtly to Arima. "We have a guest," he said dully.

"Yes." Arima's icy eyes found Kaneki's, and the whole world seemed to stop. Suddenly he was standing in a field of spider lilies. Suddenly his heart was palpitating and his mind was bleeding itself dry of words, words, words, and oh, oh, oh, how beautiful and serene and oh, oh, oh, how painful and a dream death seemed to be. "Kaneki Ken. We meet again."

Kaneki merely stared at him.

His tongue was stuck behind his teeth, and all the words he wanted to scream were being devoured by corpses disguised as spider lilies.

"Are you coming, then?" Ui asked Kaneki as politely as he could. Which was not very. The man seemed tired of this already, and they had known each other for point five seconds.

Kaneki couldn't respond. He couldn't even think. There was a rapier plunging through his eye, eye, eye, and screams dying inside his throat, throat, throat.

He nodded without meaning to, and found himself uttering softly, "Oh, oh, oh…"

He could die right now, and it would not make him any less terrible.

 _I dare you,_ he thought to Arima. To Ihei. Hell, to even Ui. _Kill me right now. Just go ahead. Fucking do it already._

But none made a move, and so Kaneki was off to dine with his murderer, his would be murderer, and someone who existed perhaps in between.

* * *

The secret to not having a mental breakdown was really in the work ethic.

If you have enough to do, and you spend all your time doing it, you only ever really focus on the bad stuff before sleep. And Mutsuki hardly ever slept nowadays. So more work was to be done.

For one thing, Mutsuki had gotten ahold of the Rabbit's cellphone.

He had found it the day after the incident. He called it the incident in his head, and he felt it was appropriate. If he thought about what it was for even a second more, he might unravel into a blubbering pile of ooze and snot and ugly tears.

Rabbit, he decided, was Kirishima Touka. That made things very difficult for everyone involved, because he knew Kaneki's loyalty would never allow for her to be captured. And frankly, Mutsuki understood why. She was scary and loud and rash, and not someone that Mutsuki thought he'd ever come to like at all.

But somehow Mutsuki found himself desperately yearning for her approval. He recalled how she had mussed his hair while protecting him, and his heart swelled by the overwhelming sense of acceptance that flowed from the gesture. The girl who seemed to hate the whole wide world had risked her life to save his. If he could show her even an ounce of the gratitude that flowed through him, that power in itself would be enough to elevate her to a throne.

Unfortunately, this meant that Mutsuki had to deal with his entire branch hunting someone he was determined to protect.

Kaneki didn't really help. Kaneki didn't really talk about what had happened, which was simultaneously nice and straining, because Mutsuki was desperate and sad. He wanted to talk about it, but at the same time he wanted to make it so it had never happened. He was being torn apart and so many different directions. But that was life, probably, so he just let it be.

Anyway, Kaneki did mandatory paper work and wandered around the office most of the time he was actually there. When he wasn't, he was traipsing around with Amon, trying to find the two missing students. Nashiro and Kurona. Mutsuki wondered why they were looking so hard, but he couldn't complain. If he had gone missing at the second junior academy like those girls, who Mutsuki _remembered_ , then he would want someone to look for him.

His time was split between trying to subtly sabotage the Rabbit investigation—adding anonymous hints to memos that were just factually incorrect enough to throw off the scent, but subtle enough to not be suspicious— and find the Yasuhisas. The latter was harder. The latter required research and intuition.

Luckily enough. Mutsuki was actually good at investigating. It was the one thing he could pride himself on, though he'd never gloat. It was the kind of quick, useful skill that made him forget that not everyone could spend three afternoons in a row combing through archives and open access security footage dating the past month and a half for the second junior academy.

He'd been out and about with Kaneki and Amon on top of this, making it irrationally hard and kind of frustrating. He had picked up the girls' appearance on video several times, but it was mostly them going to sports practice or walking from one place to another.

The archives were more promising.

Finally, after about five hours of leafing through visitor reports for the second junior academy (procured by Amon, who was possibly a saint), he found something intriguing.

It took him about a minute to realize why the name looked so familiar.

"Oh no," Mutsuki gasped, holding up the paper to the light and covering his mouth. "Ooh no… crap." He found himself jerking to his feet. "Shit. Oh no!"

He rushed from the room in a hurry. His shoes clapped with an overwhelming clamor against the tile, and other investigators glanced at him as he passed. He checked Amon's office, and found that it was empty. Of course it was. Mutsuki couldn't find it in himself to be irritated. Rotten luck was a staple of Mutsuki's existence.

"Have you seen Koutarou Amon?" he asked to a passing investigator. It was a young man that he did not recognize, and did not particularly care that he did not recognize, because he was in such a hurry.

The boy's face lit up. "He's with Shinohara, I think," he said excitedly. "Ah, he's so cool, isn't he? I can't believe they made him be partners with a ghoul, though."

Now, technically Kaneki, Amon, and Mutsuki were not partners. That was not allowed, because they were all low ranking, but in a sense they were all partners. Or perhaps it was more like they were all on the same squad. They just needed a higher up to make it official.

Mutsuki, who had been rather consumed by his mission to find Amon, faltered a bit at the boy's words. He glanced down at the paper in his hands. He then looked up at the young man very sharply.

"You should be careful what you say," Mutsuki warned gently. "Amon cares about Kaneki a lot, and would probably disapprove of you saying things like that."

The boy immediately flushed, his brow furrowing and his eyes widening. "What? Oh, no, I didn't—!" And the boy panicked mildly, smacking his head and exhaling sharply. "Oh no, please don't say anything to him about it! I just… isn't it just _weird_ working with a ghoul around?"

"No," Mutsuki said flatly. "He is the kindest person I have ever met."  _Even if he's a little scary_ , he thought to himself.  _He's still kind. After all, didn't he do all of those awful things... for me?_

The boy's mouth dropped open. "I— Oh, I'm really making a fool of myself here. I'm sorry, my name is Takizawa Seidou. I was just transferred from the main branch, and I've only really just heard rumors about him. Is he here?"

"Lucky for you," Mutsuki said in a voice that shocked him, "he had a meeting at the main headquarters. And by the way, you shouldn't base your opinion on someone over rumors. Rumors are vile and twisted and hardly ever true. All they do is serve to ostracize someone and leave them feeling useless and hopeless. Perpetuating that practice is cruel."

Takizawa looked at Mutsuki with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said softly. "I didn't think. I… it's been foolish of me to assume anything about this Kaneki person! Of course I don't know anything about him. I shouldn't judge. Right?"

"Right," Mutsuki agreed. "You'll meet him soon enough. He might end up lecturing you about ghoul politics and morality, but honestly that's probably his worst trait."

That was a lie, and Mutsuki was comfortable with that.

"Morality?" Takizawa asked weakly.

Mutsuki smiled vacantly. "Yes," he said, glancing around the hall in hopes that Amon might appear. "I've heard him and Amon argue about it more times than I can really count. They're both really stubborn people, so no one ever wins."

"Wow," Takizawa murmured. "You know them well, huh? And you look so young… what's your name and when did you graduate, may I ask?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mutsuki gasped, his eyes widening. He felt so embarrassed for himself and everyone around him for having to be present for his incredible fuck ups. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mutsuki Tooru, and, um, actually… I didn't graduate the Academy. I, um, actually didn't even finish the junior academy."

Takizawa stared at him blankly. "What?" he asked. It was a dull, slightly incredulous voice.

"I was granted special permission to become an investigator without the diploma." Mutsuki was sheepish and afraid of being judged. "I know it's weird, you can say it. I still don't quite believe it's real myself."

"How old are you?" Takizawa asked weakly, eying Mutsuki head to toe. A surge of discomfort ran through him, and he glanced away sharply.

"Fifteen," he admitted cautiously.

"No way!"

There was something akin to awe and praise and jealousy mixed into the exclamation.

"Afraid so," Mutsuki muttered. "Anyway, I have to go. Go find Amon. Um. Yeah. You know. Um…" Mutsuki gripped the hem of his white coat, and he whirled away. "Nice to meet you, Takizawa!"

"Right. Ditto!"

Mutsuki searched frantically. Shinohara, Shinohara… where was Shinohara? And why was such a high ranking investigator here? Mutsuki fancied the thought that maybe they were finally getting a leader for their makeshift squad.

As Mutsuki wandered through the building, he caught a whiff of something delicious. It was a saccharine scent that reminded him of something baking, cake half soupy as heat beat at the oozing batter, or cookies with chocolate melting at its center, or pie that sent the tingly scent of cinnamon outflowing and pervading the very air they breathed.

He couldn't help but take a look. He may not have much of a sweet tooth, but his stomach growled, and he was so tired. He'd have to eat something sooner or later, and if someone was baking something it might mean free food.

Not even Mutsuki could deny free food.

He followed the scent up the stairs and through a door. He found himself staring as a person teetered on the edge of an open window, their head swung back and a song on their lips.

Mutsuki panicked. He darted forward, dropping his paper, and he caught the person by a fistful of their white cotton shirt and their suspenders. And then Mutsuki yanked them back.

"Whoa!" the child crowed in a high, singing voice as they tipped back into Mutsuki's arms. And then promptly fell right on top of him. The wind was knocked out of him, and he saw a minor myriad of stars as his skull smacked against the tile. There were limbs tangled with his, and breath against his neck, and a chest pressed up against his, and it was so awkward and painful that Mutsuki thought he might burst into tears.

"Ahh…" the sing-song voice groaned. Mutsuki's eyes were squeezed shut. He didn't want to look. _Get off me, get off me, get off me_. "What'd you do that for?"

Mutsuki felt the breath cease against his neck, which was nice. The pressure on his chest lifted, which was even _better_. However, he was keenly aware that this person was now sitting on him, and that was not exactly favorable.

"Uhh, hel _lo_?" Nimble, callused fingers touched his cheek gingerly. And then prodded it hard. "You awake in there?" The fingers pried open his eye, and Mutsuki gasped, blinking wildly.

The person on top of him looked like a porcelain doll that had been dressed in the dark by a cruel older sibling that had cut the doll's hair all choppy and uneven and dropped it in the dirt and drew on its face with a red sharpie.

It was a jarring, uneasy presence for somebody so small and soft and smudgy.

"Oh, so you _are_ awake!" They bounced their head from side to side. "That's nice. So what's up, you? Do you wanna fight or something?"

"No!" Mutsuki cried, shaking his head furiously. He felt his cheeks reddening, and he wished he could drown in his insecurities instead of unveiling them here. "No way, I just… you were almost going to fall." _Or jump_. "Are you okay?"

"I was just balancing, buddy," the person said confusedly. "No biggie there."

"Um… right. Okay. I'm sorry." Mutsuki's eyes were wide, though this person would only see one. "Please forgive me. I was scare you would fall. Ah, this is…" _Embarrassing_. "Silly. I'm so sorry."

The person looked surprised. "You were what?" They blinked their eerie red eyes at Mutsuki, and then frowned. "Scared? _For_ me?"

"Yes!" Mutsuki pulled himself half upright, propping himself onto his elbows. The person's snowy mess of hair tickled his forehead. "You were totally unbalanced and falling every which way! I didn't want to see you go splat on the pavement."

"No kidding," the person said absently.

Mutsuki stared at them. They stared back.

"I have a question," the person declared.

"If— if I respond, will you get off me?"

"Sure." They smiled brightly. Then they held up Mutsuki's quinque, which he had not even felt being slipped from his lower back. He shuddered. This person's fingers were far more nimble than he'd thought. "Why and when did you take this from me?"

Mutsuki's mouth fell open in shock. "Huh?" he blurted.

They twirled Scorpion in their fingers like it was an old tune on the piano that they'd never forgotten. "This. My quinque. It's annoying, isn't it? Kinda clunky. If you wanted it… you could have asked… but now I don't know what to do with you… because you took something of mine…"

Mutsuki's heart seized in terror. "But," he gasped, reaching out and grasping their long sleeve desperately, "that's mine!"

Their big, soupy red eyes widened so big that it looked more eyes than face.

" _Huh_?" They studied the quinque, raising it to eyelevel. "Nuh uh!"

"Yeah!" Mutsuki tugged at their sleeve. "Please give it back to me, I really need it!"

They glanced down at Mutsuki. They frowned deeply. And then they procured an identical looking Scorpion from seemingly nowhere.

"It's the same," they observed, tapping the blades together absently.

"We must have been given the same quinque," Mutsuki sighed. "It's… not that strange, I guess. Um, excuse me…?"

"Yeah, yeah." The person flopped onto their back beside Mutsuki and tapped the quinque together eagerly. Metal scraped against metal, a discordant sound that made Mutsuki wince. "Same quinque. Hm. Same quinque."

"It happens," Mutsuki muttered, still flushing profusely.

They looked up at Mutsuki. And they smiled. "Bet you can't beat me," they sang.

"Probably not!" Mutsuki cried.

"What," they huffed, pouting at him, "not even gonna try?"

"No. No, I'm not."

"Sad." They sat up sharply. "You should fight me. One day. Okay?"

"Um…"

"You just gotta." They looked sad and beseeching as they leaned forward, grasping Mutsuki's hands tightly. "Pretty please with sugar on top? I don't mind if you hurt me."

"I kind of mind if you hurt me, though," Mutsuki gasped, eying his hands in this person's and finding that his blush was only worsening. "I'm not a good fighter. I'm not really good at anything."

"That's so sad," they remarked. "What's your name, not really good at anything?"

Mutsuki averted his gaze. This was infuriating.

"Mutsuki Tooru," he muttered.

"Well, Mutsuki," said the person boldly, "you shouldn't think so bad about yourself. I bet you're good at something. You tried to save me when I definitely didn't need any saving at all, and isn't that something? Maybe you're good at just caring."

"That's not anything special."

"Sure it is," they gasped. "I mean, _I_ don't really get it. Why should you care if I fell off?"

"It'd be scary," Mutsuki said slowly, "and sad."

"You don't even know me, though." They blinked a few times, and they laughed. "Who cares if I die? You could have let me, I wouldn't have had any hard feelings."

"I would have been sad," Mutsuki gasped, yanking his hands away. "It's horrifying to even imagine it! Of course I care!"

They looked at him with the dullest surprise Mutsuki had ever seen.

"You're kinda weird," they said.

"Yes," Mutsuki sighed. _So are you, though_ , he added as an afterthought.

"It's nice." They beamed at him. They jumped to their feet excitedly. "Well, I'm Suzuya Juuzou! Oh, here's the quinque, I guess. I don't care that much, I just wanted to know how you stole it from me."

"Well, I didn't steal it," Mutsuki said quietly, pulling himself upright and rubbing the back of his head. It kind of hurt. He took the knife from Suzuya, and he blinked wildly. "Do you _smell_ that?" He looked around the room sharply, but there were no pastries in sight. "Where is that coming from?"

"What is it?"

"Some kind of sweet or pastry, or something!"

Suzuya took Mutsuki's shoulders. Their eyes were sparkling.

"Where?" they asked breathlessly.

"I don't know, I just—!" Mutsuki had inhaled sharply. And all at once he realized where the smell was coming from.

"It's you," he uttered in disbelief.

Suzuya's mouth fell open.

"Oh," they said sadly, "how disappointing."

"Why do you… smell so good?"

Mutsuki's head was swimming. He needed to reevaluate every single thing he knew about himself, because there was no reason for Suzuya Juuzou to smell like an appetizing treat. No. No person should ever smell appetizing. So why was Mutsuki smelling this? It made him dizzy and a little nauseous. Because he could not figure out what it meant.

They sniffed their arm, and they offered a shrug. "I don't smell anything."

Mutsuki didn't know how to respond. He felt bad and really embarrassed.

"Maybe it's you?" Suzuya took Mutsuki's arm and sniffed it. Mutsuki yanked it away. "You just smell like coffee. The gross black kind."

"Um. Thanks."

"I kinda really want to fight you for real now."

"Please don't…"

"I won't, but I'm just saying, you know, it could happen." Suzuya laughed delightedly, and they let go of Mutsuki. "Anyways, next time don't try to save me, Mutsuki-No-Fun."

"What's that nickname for?" Mutsuki asked fearfully.

"You drink black coffee," Suzuya said gravely. "I can tell. Only sad sticks in the mud drink that stuff."

"I… um. I'm sorry?"

"You should be," Suzuya said gravely. "You should be."

There was a long pause.

"Are you… kidding?" Mutsuki offered.

"Not one itty bitty bit." They smiled though, and it was probably the most nonthreatening thing Mutsuki had seen from them thus far. Perhaps they had warmed up to him.

"Um, okay then." Mutsuki looked away, choking down a laugh. "I'm looking for, um, Shinohara? Also Amon. Have you—?"

"Yep." Suzuya rolled their eyes. "Oh, yep, yep, yep. Come on, I've got you." They snatch Mutsuki by the hand and hummed. "Your hands are soft. That's funny. Mutsuki, you've never killed a ghoul before, have you?"

"Ah…" Mutsuki had to stretch to scoop up the paper he'd dropped. "N-no?"

"Damn."

"Um!" Mutsuki's voice raised a pitch, and he couldn't help but wince. He had nothing else to say either.

"Maybe you really can't fight," Suzuya gasped. "Is that it?"

"I can fight!" Mutsuki gasped defensively. "Just… I don't know. I can defend myself, at least."

"Sad black coffee kid," Suzuya said with a snort.

"Um!"

"Um!" Suzuya mimicked, and then laughed brightly. "You're funny."

Mutsuki didn't know how to respond, because he hadn't tried to be.

"Are you… a transfer?" Mutsuki asked confusedly as Suzuya pulled him down the stairs. "Like Takizawa…?"

"Yeah." They looked up at Mutsuki with gleaming red eyes. "Me and Shinohara, we got bumped over here because all the ghoul activity that's been going on here. I think some others are here too, uh…" They tapped their chin thoughtfully. "Well. I don't really remember. That Takizawa person, or whatever. Um. And someone else? Hell if I know."

"I see."

Suzuya's hand was scratchy and small, but also strangely delicate like a child's. Mutsuki glanced at his hand in theirs, noting the difference in skin tone and feeling a little distanced from them. His skin was a warm brown hue, but beside Suzuya's milky skin he seemed to be dark as tree bark against snow. The red string stitched into Suzuya's finger and hand and arm did not help. It just made him feel more like he did not belong.

"Here," Suzuya gasped, skidding to a stop. Mutsuki bumped into them, his hand still in their grasp, and he had to lean back a bit. While he did so, Suzuya threw the door open and dragged him through it. "Hello!"

Mutsuki pried his fingers from Suzuya's just in time to find that they had barged in on what appeared to be a meeting. He flushed, toying with the hem of his coat anxiously and glancing back at the door. He thought maybe he might be able to make a quick escape without anyone paying him any mind.

Someone asked, "Mutsuki?" at the same time as a different voice asking, "Juuzou?"

He winced. Or not.

"Ah," Mutsuki gasped, bowing his head and pressing the paper to his chest. He didn't want to look around to see who was here. He felt like he'd already made a huge mistake, and he couldn't afford another. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were busy."

"It's fine, Mutsuki." Amon sounded genuine, his voice soft against the sound of a chair squeaking against the floor. "Is something wrong?"

He raised his head. Suzuya eyed him, red eye narrowed and curious. The rest of the room was watching with some vague sort of interest, which made him so very anxious, and he had to take deep breaths to keep himself from panicking. Everyone was looking at him, and he didn't know most of them, and that made it so hard to think.

"Mutsuki." Amon's hand clapped against his shoulder, and he looked up at him fearfully. When Amon searched his face, there was something strained there, like he was piecing something together quickly, and Mutsuki wished he wouldn't. His grip settled firmly against his shoulder, and he glanced back at the others in the meeting. "I apologize. I will be right back."

"That's not—!" Mutsuki objected, but was inevitably drowned out by Suzuya's jaunty laugh as they took a seat beside their mentor. They didn't look back at Mutsuki, but they did waggle their short, slender fingers. Amon gently guided Mutsuki out of the room, and once he was away from the eyes and eyes, so many vicious, callous eyes, he leaned against a wall and took quick breaths.

Amon merely stood by and waited patiently.

"I'm sorry," Mutsuki murmured miserably. "I—I'm such a pain to have around."

"Something has happened," Amon observed. Mutsuki stiffened, and found he could not meet the man's eyes. "I don't know what, and I don't expect you to tell me, but I've noticed it. You and Kaneki barely speak. You're despondent, and distant, and you will not respond when asked about your disappearance. I'm worried about you."

"That's unnecessary, sir," he said quietly.

"It's entirely necessary, and I'll tell you why." Amon touched the top of his head gingerly, forcing Mutsuki to tilt his chin up and look him in the eye. It was a strange thing, the magic of touch, the distinct longing for approval that was satisfied by the clapping of a firm hand against the crown of a skull. "I don't need to know about your past. You don't have to explain anything. We all have things that we put behind us that are shameful and disgusting. We don't want to be defined by them, so why should we let ourselves? You clearly have been through a lot. If Kaneki is making things worse—"

"Kaneki is kind," Mutsuki cut in sharply. "Don't get the wrong idea, Amon. Sir. Please. I understand what this must seem like, but nothing is Kaneki's fault. I… I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Is it really so bad that everyone is noticing?" He didn't like the idea that his mental health was becoming a popular topic of gossip. That never ended well.

"I've noticed," Amon sighed, "because I happen to care about your well-being. I also have noticed that Kaneki has been increasingly distant, and often goes off on his own. He still refuses to tell me where he found you."

"Kaneki has his reasons…"

"Kaneki is kind," Amon echoed Mutsuki, "but having a kind heart does not equate to verity or justice. I don't think Kaneki cares much about anything that does not suit his goal."

"And what goal is that?" Mutsuki asked tentatively.

Amon glanced at him. He offered a humble shrug. "Honestly," he admitted, "I have no clue. If I had to guess, it would be some sort of crazy plot to improve human and ghoul relations. But I can't imagine he's gotten very far with that."

"No," Mutsuki said dully. "I can't imagine he has."

He thought about Touka. He thought about the image of Kaneki cradling her limp body, blood glistening around his white mouth, two sets of teeth dripping blood against her exposed neck, and he reached, reached, reached— but did not dare touch the mask of stars and moons that smoothed over Touka's pretty face.

He thought about Touka's hand on his head, mussing his hair gingerly. It was not a different feeling than what Mutsuki was feeling now. The need to be accepted. To be loved for who he was, for how far he'd come. To be forgiven. To be deserving of such a mark of approval.

"Please," Amon said, "know that you can talk to me if you need to."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mutsuki said softly. "Um. Sir."

"I think it's safe to say we are at the point where you can drop some formalities," Amon laughed awkwardly, lifting his hand from Mutsuki's head. "You know me, I know you. Just call me Amon. Could I call you Tooru?"

Mutsuki couldn't quite believe his ears. His whole chest was swelling with this indescribable warmth. Approval. Acceptance. It was all unraveling within him.

"Yes," he said. "If you'd like."

"Good," Amon said, smiling contentedly. "That's good. So, Tooru, what exactly do you have for me? I can tell you're itching to tell me something."

"Oh!" Mutsuki had nearly forgotten, and he bounced eagerly on his feet. "Oh! Kou— Amon, please look at this!" He offered out the paper he had found while scouring the visitor sheets. "I was searching for someone who might have visited the Yasuhisas close to their disappearance, and I found something a little… um, if I can be totally honest, a little frightening."

Amon took the paper cautiously, and he scanned it. "Frightening…?" he murmured. Perhaps he did not quite get it yet. And then his eyes widened. His fingers clenched against the paper, crinkling up its sides. The air seemed to change, the atmosphere growing dark as Amon seemed to struggle with his thoughts, his emotions, his very composure. "No. That's not right."

"I can go check again," Mutsuki offered. "I can see if Dr. Kanou visited them more than once. But… Amon. If Nashiro and Kurona were approached by him… what can we even do to help them now?"

Amon raised his eyes. His mouth was parted, his hands shaky, and he turned away.

"Please," he said quietly, "do not tell Kaneki."

Mutsuki found himself stunned, unable to truly process Amon's request. "Wait," he said cautiously, "what?"

"Don't tell him." Amon was staring at the paper, his shoulders tense. "Not until I can say for sure that this means what we think it means."

"What… exactly do we think it means?" Mutsuki's fingers clamped around the hem of his coat, and he wished that he could be brave enough to say what he felt to be true.

Amon folded the paper smoothly, and he tucked it into his pocket. "Yasuhisa Nashiro and Kurona," he said in a cold, shaky voice, "may have been kidnapped— or persuaded— in order to further the development of half-ghoul research."

Mutsuki didn't know what to say.

But he felt that his existence was becoming more and more unremarkable with every passing day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> intertrimentum, intertrimenti.  
> wear and tear; loss


	21. effugium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school sucks 2k16. also this fic is long af i'm really sorry for how long it's gonna be. hope you stick with it, i guess.

Sunshine tickled his eyelashes, spilling warmth onto his face in spite of that deathlike chill that had glazed his skin through the night. He rolled over, dawn greeting him with a grayish trickle of light, mist gathering along the sides of the streets. Many people were passing by, hurrying off to work, bustling away and paying his immobile body no mind.

Kaneki lifted his chin, and he watched his breath swirl against the frigid air. It rolled around his cheeks and stung his eyes.

It was probably not a good thing to do, to lose time like a sleep walker and wander like a pariah and collapse on a bench like a waif. He hardly remembered doing any of it, by which he really meant doing nothing, but he could not say he was not in control of himself. He had been utterly aware as he'd walked from street to street to street, the sun closing in on the horizon and city lights sparkling in his dull eyes.

He sat up on the bench, his neck stiff as it was lifted from his briefcase. Of all the things to use as a pillow. He supposed it was suiting.

If he could fall asleep and never wake up, he probably would not complain.

 _What's wrong with me_ , he thought numbly. He let his head bow and bow and bow. It fell into his hands, and bony fingers bent against the hollows of his eyes. _Why did I do this? Why didn't I just go home?_

Arima Kishou's face appeared on the back of his eyelids, and his whole body lurched. The shock sparked a sense of terror in him, a gasp tearing from his throat and a pain burning behind his eyes. He took his hair, and he took his chest, and he curled up against the bench.

_What's wrong with me, what's wrong with me, what's wrong with me…?_

He wanted to scream or sob but everything in him was drained away, so instead he just sat frozen on this bench, frost scraping his lashes, and he took deep breaths until he could no longer bear to sit still.

He checked his phone.

So many messages.

He scrolled through the names. Hide, mostly. Hide. Hide. Mutsuki. Hide. Mutsuki. Amon. Hide. Hide. Hide. Mutsuki.

Unknown.

 _Touka_ , he thought, his mind realigning somewhat to reality. He cupped his phone in his hands. Should he call her back? Risk her answering him while involved with someone from Aogiri? Was that even worth it?

What a fucking mess.

Where had this even come from? What had triggered this zombie-like response?

The previous day felt like a dream. Not even a particularly bad dream, just a hazy whirl of emotions and events that did not quite connect. He remembered things— Yoshitoki's advisement, the admittance of Mutsuki's fear, the existence of Shirazu Ginshi, and of course the strange and elusive situation that had led to him being roped into getting lunch with Arima Kishou.

That had just gone swimmingly.

He remembered trailing behind the three of them. Ihei did most of the talking, her hands animated and her voice distant. Ui Koori had his share of comments, while Arima seemed to merely fade into obscurity once a conversation was struck. Kaneki remembered shooting nervous glances at him. The man had not given any sort of suggestion towards answering them, but Kaneki doubted they had gone unnoticed.

"Kaneki!" Ihei whirled to face him. "You went to high school, didn't you? What were placement exams like? I swear, I've never seen so many kids want to commit mass suicide before!"

"Sounds about right," Kaneki had remarked. He remembered feeling off kilter. Like he could not possibly recall the stress of high school, not now, not with a life upon a life upon a life just building inside his fucked up head. So many lives, so many people, so many different versions of this same awkward, ugly face, and he could not find himself in any of them.

"You went to Uni, right?" Ihei's briefcase had bounced jauntily against her hip. "I heard that from someone. But then you got ghouled up, and ended up here. Oh, is that okay to say?"

"I've never heard it put like that before," Kaneki admitted, "but you aren't wrong."

"You're right," Ihei said, smiling softly, "I'm not. But can't you tell us why you came to us? No offense, but that seems kind of stupid. If I had been there when you'd showed up and declared yourself a ghoul, I probably would have just killed you."

"That's unwise," Arima said suddenly.

They all looked at him. Ihei's mouth snapped shut, Ui's eyes widened and shifted nervously, and Kaneki merely felt bile clawing up the back of his throat.

 _You killed me,_ he remembered thinking. _Once in a dream, in a future that won't ever exist, once in my past and once in a never ever after._

He found himself sitting in a booth. They all ordered food, and when the waitress got to him, he politely ordered a water. Every single eye fell upon him.

What a knowing and separating stare that was.

Arima Kishou sat beside him for almost an hour.

Kaneki did not speak much in that time. But neither did Arima Kishou.

The man sat with his hands folded beneath his chin. He watched Ihei and Ui. He made a comment here or there.

And then he slid the heel of a bread loaf in front of Kaneki.

All at once, the eyes, the rapier, the spider lilies, they were breathing for him, and he was lost in the intoxication of death, death, death.

"I can't," Kaneki said.

They all looked at him.

Ihei's fingers laced over her mouth. Her droopy eyes betrayed a hint of malice. No— not malice. Sadism. Curiosity in its purest, most destructive form. She did not mean him ill, not really, but he resented her for wanting to know if he would suffer a bit for her entertainment.

Ui looked, to his credit, uncomfortable. His eyes flashed between the bread and Kaneki's face.

"They say you're still human." Arima looked at him, his eyes like liquid silver behind the wire rims of his glasses. "I don't think you can prove that."

Kaneki heard his own breath. It rattled.

Oh, oh, oh— could they hear it too? The fear and despair that choked him?

Kaneki had no idea what to do. There was no easy way out of this— either he ate the bread and humiliated himself in the process of proving Arima right, or he simply proved Arima right without a fight. Nothing he did would change this indisputable fact. That he could not fulfill the task at hand.

That he was no longer human, and that was a problem here.

"What…" Kaneki had uttered, shrinking into himself, "what do you want from me? I told you. I can't."

"That's enough," Ui said calmly. "We all know he's telling the truth. I hate ghouls as much as the next person, but we should be above playground bullying."

Ihei pulled her hands from her mouth, and Kaneki noted that she looked rather remorseful. Like perhaps she had not realized the extent of her folly until Ui's words had been spoken. The depth of her immaturity was probably striking her.

Arima, however, had not done this out of a childish whimsy. He'd done it with the knowledge that Kaneki could not eat, and he'd done it because he had wanted to see the result.

Perhaps he had wanted to see if he could truly make Kaneki do it.

"Maybe," Arima said, turning his chin up and his eyes away, "you should learn."

Kaneki stiffened. He stared at the piece of bread miserably, knowing exactly what kind of moldy, spongy, ocean floor monstrosity it would come to taste like once it crumbled on his tongue.

They all sat. They all watched.

Kaneki was feeling the heat of the degradation. Had he no choice at all?

He took the heel of bread in his hand. It weighed on his palm, and he was unable to differentiate its floury surface from the mess of milky skin and ribbons of flesh that he'd consumed at the ghoul restaurant. His fingers shook. His stomach growled.

He slammed the bread back onto the table and slid it back towards Arima.

"Eat shit," he snapped, meeting the man's cool eyes and jumping to his feet. "I have nothing to prove to you."

And then he had marched out, feeling less and less like a person and more like some kind of sick joke that had been spilled out of someone's mouth at the wrong time and left dangling in an awkward silence.

Then he had walked. A kilometer for every ugly thought he'd ever had. He might have walked forever if the pain behind his eyes had not flared up. If the memories hadn't struggled and writhed and coughed themselves up like the shredded lungs of a consumption patient.

He cupped his phone now, staring at the names on the screen.

 _I want to tell you,_ he thought dully _, how I've hurt all of you._

To Touka. To her lost smiles and his broken promises. To her denial and her broken heart. To his wishes and longings and her lost dreams. To the memories they could not replace, to the follies they could not erase. He thought that if he could tell her how much she meant it would make it right, but there would never be enough time, and they could never have enough space between them, and every moment away from her made things feel so much less real. To the weight of his own mistake, to think himself as someone who could occupy her mind and her heart wholly. He was such a selfish creature. To think that Kirishima Touka's life could ever revolve around him.

To Amon. Cut, cut, cut. Snip, snip, snip. Kaneki didn't remember all that well, but they had met time and again, and nothing but emotional turmoil had followed. To the parts of themselves that they'd lost every step of the way, to the words they had never gotten to say, to the lives they had not gotten to live. In another life, Kaneki sliced Amon away. He did not think, he did not doubt. He had been there, and then he'd been gone. Eyepatch. Centipede. Monstrosity, ghoul, abomination, sick, sick, sick. To the life begun anew that had made these things so hard to process. How could Kaneki apologize for the pain he'd caused in another world, in another time, in another life?

To Hide.

To all the words they'd both decided to leave unsaid, and to the mistakes they'd made that had led to something unfathomable.

Kaneki could still taste the clinging sweetness of Hide's blood behind his teeth.

Regret was all he had to offer now, and it would never be enough. It would never suffice.

He would always be wanting more and leaving less. He fell behind as the world sped forward.

The only person he didn't have to apologize for past, nonexistent actions, was Mutsuki.

And Kaneki had made plenty of mistakes in this present time line to offer him another five lifetimes of regret.

What should he have done differently? To make up for all these awful things?

He should have fucking died.

He should have just let himself starve in an alley. He was ruining lives by existing.

But of course, he knew that was all just words, and he would have never been able to go through with it. The madness would have taken him. He would have probably ended up at Anteiku. The cycle fucking repeats.

His phone rang. He checked the caller ID, and he pocketed it.

If he heard Hide's voice now, he might go insane.

Instead of doing something practical like, perhaps, going home and showering and going to sleep, Kaneki decided to head toward the subway.

Regret was such a powerful force. It ripped you open and drained you out.

He would do anything to just stop this process of being so utterly responsible. To end the regret. That would be enough to satisfy him. Right?

Finding the apartment was not that hard. He had seen the address in the application, and regardless it was on the same street as the seventh junior academy.

This was a bad idea and an intrusion of privacy. And he did not fucking care one bit.

He was shaky and disheveled when he made it up the stairs. He found the apartment number. There was music muffled softly from behind the door, a scratchy and far off tune that seemed to set the hallway back a decade and a half. Kaneki felt like he was still asleep.

When he knocked, he decided he wanted to turn and run away.

He didn't, but damn, did he want to.

From behind the door, from over the trepidation of the music and the beat, from a strangled, panicked gasp, came a voice.

"Coming!"

Kaneki took a step back as the door was all but ripped open, a boy falling over himself propping the door open and clutching a check book.

"What do I—?" He looked down at Kaneki's face. There was a cigarette dangling from his flat lips, stuck firmly between his mangled teeth. His eerie eyes widened considerably, the blacks of them stark against the sea of white, and he plucked the cigarette from his mouth. "Oh. You ain't who I thought you were."

"Shirazu Ginshi." Kaneki's eyes roved from the check book to the cigarette to Shirazu's tired eyes. "I'm sorry to bother you so early. My name is Kaneki Ken, and I'd really like to talk to you."

"Kaneki Ken," the boy repeated softly, his cigarette wilting between bony knuckles. "I remember you. You were at the academy a few days ago."

"Yeah." Kaneki glanced away. "That's me. Um—"

"You're a quinx," Shirazu said suddenly. Kaneki found himself jolting at the word. Him? A quinx? No, that wasn't a fair assessment. Mutsuki Tooru was currently the only "quinx" in existence. Kaneki was just a bad mistake. "You coulda said that, y'know, when we met. I had no idea the project was even kinda just a little near where it is! Lucky I looked into it, or else I never would've thought to send my application in. Ah, shit, wait…" Shirazu groaned, and he opened the door wider. "Is that what this is about? Was my app rejected or whatever?"

"That's not my call," Kaneki said candidly. "If it were, I would have rejected you flat out."

Shirazu Ginshi looked at Kaneki as thought Kaneki had ripped his still beating heart from his chest and devoured it before him.

He laid his emotions bare for Kaneki to see. He wore every ounce of his shock and dismay on his sleeves.

"Did I do somethin' wrong?" Shirazu choked out.

Kaneki felt like he might just be the most awful person on the planet.

"No." Kaneki sighed, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly while turning away. "I'm sorry. I… I made a mistake. I'm sorry I bothered you."

"Wait!" Shirazu gasped kicking his door open and rushing into the hall. "Please come in! I— I gotta know what's wrong. Don't leave me hangin' like this, man!"

Kaneki stared down the hall, and he thought of every mistake he'd made and how he'd made them.

He was thoughtless and selfish.

He was brainless and immature.

He had no concept of living and letting live. He had no distinction between death and defying dying.

Kaneki was led into a cozy one room apartment. There was a twin sized mattress kicked into the corner on the floor, half covered with an assortment of clothing and bundled blankets. On the walls above it were a collage of bright posters, a million different sayings and pop culture references swimming in Kaneki's brain. Movie posters— classic horror and sci-fi, the occasional Oscar winning drama, a musical or two even. Band posters too. Mostly vintage rock bands. There was a wall of shelves that consisted half of vinyl records and half of VHS tapes.

Shirazu unfolded a folding chair at a folding table, sticking his cigarette back into his mouth and tossing the checkbook aside. The window was open, a fan waving the smoke out into the bitter December air. The jaunty music was humming away from a distinctly 70s looking record player that sat at the corner of the folding table. There was a sticky tab on its side that said a price. Beneath it, in bold characters, _SOLD_.

"Ah…" Shirazu was moving frantically around his apartment, kicking clothes into his closet, which was a mismatch of seven different decades overlapping and overflowing. Bell bottoms and tweed jackets and leather and fur trimmings and overalls. Combat boots and saddle shoes and converse. He saw them all in a blink. "I'm real sorry 'bout this. I don't get much company."

"It's fine." Kaneki found this apartment to be so… homey. There was nothing about it that seemed empty or untouched. Every scrap of paper, every crinkled can of coffee, every stray article of clothing felt so distinctly used and loved. It was such a jarring difference from his sad, vacuous little apartment that held his garbage and his loss. This place seemed to breathe life, and not just Shirazu's. There was a story in every word that stretched the walls. There was a story in the music and the smoke.

"You want somethin'?" Shirazu dragged a hand through choppy yellow hair, locks falling all lopsided into his flustered cheeks. "I've got a coffee maker. Um—!" He winced, and turned away. "Shit, I just made some, where'd it go?"

Kaneki pointed to the overflowing sink. There was a pot of coffee still steaming on the counter beside it. Shirazu beamed, running to it and bouncing on his feet. "Fuck yeah!" he gasped, plucking his cigarette from his lips and snatching a mug from the sink. He rinsed it out a few times, enough for Kaneki to deem it plausibly clean, and then poured the sloshing black coffee into it. "It's pretty gross, but it's strong."

"Ditto," Kaneki muttered, watching Shirazu set the mug down on the table before the seat. He sat cautiously while Shirazu jumped onto his window sill and lounged with his arms between his open legs.

"So…" Shirazu leaned back and forth, smoke dancing around his head. "What'd I do wrong?"

"I told you," Kaneki sighed, thumbing his mug absently. "You didn't do anything. My disapproval has nothing to do with you as a person."

"What about me as like, an investigator?"

"I'm sure that's fine too."

"Then I ain't totally sure what this is all about." Shirazu pulled the cigarette away, blowing smoke out the window and grimacing. "Is this botherin' you?"

"It's fine."

Shirazu snuffed the cigarette out into an ashtray anyway. He folded his bony hands together, lacing them against his thin lips and staring into a space beyond Kaneki's head.

"If it ain't me," he sighed, "what's wrong?"

"It's…" Kaneki struggled to find the words. He took a great gulp of the awful, waterlogged black coffee, and he shook his head. "Okay, I need to admit something. It's me. This is all me. I'm not happy about the quinx project at all."

"Dude…" Shirazu blinked rapidly, and he hunched so that he looked rather like an old horror movie monster. The hunchback that escaped Notre Dame. The phantom far, far from its opera house. "No offense or nothin', but what's that gotta do with me?"

"You will probably end up becoming one," Kaneki admitted. Shirazu perked up, and that caused Kaneki to shoot him a cold look. "It's not a good thing. It's not fun."

"I thought it was totally safe." Shirazu looked lost. He was the same excited boy that Kaneki had met a few days prior, but there was a weariness to him. This boy felt like a child that had been forced to grow up too fast, and didn't know how to reconcile that with his natural personality. He was tired and sad, but not in the same resigned way as Mutsuki. He was not detached or scarred by his troubles. He was merely bearing them. As best as any fifteen year old boy could on his own.

"It's still a new program, and there are still a lot of risks involved." Kaneki sighed deeply, and he rubbed his eyes. He felt like there was film clinging to them. "Frankly, I find the whole thing to be creepy and barbaric, but I don't have a choice about it. I can't know if it will affect you like it's affected me."

"But didn't you consent to it?" Shirazu gasped, jumping from the window. "I— Mr. Kaneki, sir, you gotta give it to me straight here! I can't not take the offer, I just gotta do it!"

"You don't have to," Kaneki murmured.

"Yeah," Shirazu scoffed, his face twisting indignantly. "I gotta. I really gotta. You don't know me, man, I've got my reasons."

"I went to the CCG because I didn't want to hurt anyone," he told Shirazu sharply. "Mutsuki— he's the only real quinx there is, since I don't count— he joined because he wants purpose and stability and freedom that no one else can offer him. But that's not a good enough reason right now. You can't just risk your life and your future over whims that will fade."

Shirazu stood, his hands balled into fists.

His lip trembled.

"You don't know me," he repeated tersely. "You don't got any right presumin' you know why I'm doing this. If there's minimal risk, and if I can become an investigator faster, then I gotta. I just _gotta_. I don't expect ya to get it, 'kay? I just think maybe you should trust me a little. I know why I'm doin' this."

"It will consume you." Kaneki raised his eyes to Shirazu's. He wanted him to see how tired and disgusted he was. In the world. In himself. "Maybe not right away, but it gets to you. This thing that you become isn't human, and nobody wants to admit it. Do you really want to throw your humanity away for a cheap shot at ghoul investigating?"

"This ain't a cheap shot," Shirazu snapped. "This is my _only_ shot. I don't _got_ your options, and don't _got_ the time to think about what's gonna be left of my humanity after I do this. If I gotta sacrifice every bit of it— if I have to become a monster, then goddamn I'll do it!"

"That's not practical."

"That's my goddamn life!" Shirazu scowled at him. "Yo, you wanna go at it all day, fine by me, but you ain't gonna change my mind. This is it for me. This is my future."

"Why?" Kaneki found himself lurching to his feet. His eyes were wide, beseeching, and he heard his own voice crack miserably. "Why can't you find a different option?"

Shirazu's eyes narrowed. He folded his arms across his chest and glanced away. He looked older than fifteen, his frame stocky and broad, his face long and sharp. He wore a faded band tee shirt with several holes that bared his bony ribs. His sweat pants were two sizes too small, and ended at his knees. He was nothing but a ragamuffin, and even that seemed to scream personality.

He marched up to a bedside table that looked more like an old toddler's stool than anything, and he plucked a binder up. He flipped through it, and then offered Kaneki an envelope.

Kaneki took it gingerly. It appeared to be from an insurance agency.

"What is this?" he asked hoarsely. He felt like he knew before he even really looked.

"That," Shirazu said dully, "is the amount of money I gotta scrounge up this month to keep my sister alive."

Kaneki's heart sunk. He didn't want to look at the sum, because he knew how bad it would be. He now felt even more selfish and furious with himself, because he had not even considered that Shirazu Ginshi might be the type of person who did these types of horrible things to himself for the sake of someone else.

He handed the envelope back mutely. Shirazu took it, stared at it for a long moment— perhaps a minute in full— and then set it back into the binder gingerly.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki murmured.

"Yeah, man. Whatever." Shirazu rubbed the back of his neck, and he sighed deeply. "I ain't gonna hold this against you. You sound like, ya know, you're all fucked up 'cause of this quinx stuff. I don't wanna get fucked up. I just… I need the money."

"I understand," Kaneki said somberly.

"Really?" Shirazu's eyes lit up. He looked absolutely rejuvenated, his expression aglow. "Then ya won't hold this against me, right? If we're gonna work together someday, I wanna be friends."

"I'd love to be your friend, Shirazu," Kaneki whispered.

Shirazu's mouth opened. His cheeks turned pink, and he glanced away bashfully. "Ya got a funny way of showin' it, man," he laughed. "No hard feelings, though. I got you. I get it."

"I'm sorry that I came here," Kaneki sighed, covering one eye with his hand. "I'm sorry I messed this up."

"I don't mind." Shirazu looked and sounded so earnest. "Ya look like ya had a rough night. No offence."

"None taken."

"Are we done fightin'?" Shirazu looked at Kaneki innocently. He was very sweet and young, though clearly unrefined and sort of bristly. "Do ya think? 'Cause if so, y'know, you're welcome to stick around, but… I got the school thing. And work. And then other work."

"I'll get out of your way," Kaneki said quickly, bowing his head. "I'm sorry I wasted your time. And yelled at you. Honestly, I… I really need to just apologize for all of this. All I want is to make sure as few people suffer as possible because of me."

"Because of you?" Shirazu looked at him confusedly.

"I just fucked up a lot, I guess."

"Yo," Shirazu said with a shrug. "It happens."

Kaneki searched the boy's face. He wanted to be sure that Shirazu Ginshi's suffering would not be on Kaneki's hands.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki said once more.

Shirazu looked at him, and he offered the most genuine smile that Kaneki had ever seen.

"Don't be sorry for shit you can't change," he said softly.

And that was that.

Kaneki left, not particularly because he wanted to, but because there was really nothing else to say. He could not dissuade Shirazu Ginshi from becoming a quinx. He could not blame him for wanting this. He could not even say he wasn't a little excited to get to know the boy better, because Kaneki was warmed by his presence and by his big heart.

He was just really scared. Scared to lose someone else to the madness and the turmoil. Scared that he really was not going to be good enough.

As he walked home, he felt different. Like maybe he'd been living his whole life wrong, wrong, wrong. His mother had always taught him that it was better to get hurt than to hurt. But that meant very little, in hindsight, and though he had no desire to think about it, he was consumed by the thought that perhaps he should be rethinking his entire code of conduct.

Kaneki Ken had a bad habit of pushing people away. He thought that maybe it would keep them safe, but in the end it just made things worse.

Staying away from Anteiku had not saved it from the doves.

Staying away from Touka had not caused her any less heartache.

Staying away from Amon had literally just fucked them both over sideways.

Staying away from Hide had killed him.

And in the end, Kaneki had died for it.

Did he want to die again?

It was so hard to say. He would much rather have never existed at all.

But pushing, pushing, pushing away everything that made him happy? How the hell was that supposed to fix anything?

Washuu Yoshitoki had implied that maybe Mutsuki would be better off somewhere else. And maybe he was right.

But Kaneki was so tired of this game of never letting anyone in. He wanted to be loved. To let people know that he loved them too.

What was so wrong with that?

If his mother had not worked herself to death, he might have asked her.

So he returned home. He was dead from exhaustion, every muscle in his body locked and frozen. He had to trudge up the stairs. He shouldered open his door. He threw his keys and all but collapsed against the wall, burying his face in his hands.

There was rustling. The sound of a blanket being pushed aside. Kaneki took a deep, shaky breath. He felt like he knew what he was going to see when he looked up.

Lo and behold, when he dragged his hands away from his eyes, he met the shimmering amber gaze of Nagachika Hideyoshi. He was lounging on the couch, his arms dangling over the back of it, his smile tight and sad.

"Rough night?" he offered jokingly.

Kaneki decidedly did not answer. "How long have you been here?"

Hide's head fell to the side, his hair a great tangle of yellow wisps. His roots were showing bad now, dark and shooting through the sunshine threads, reminding them both that maybe there was more beneath the surface than either of them wanted to admit.

"Mutsuki called me at about six last night," Hide said, climbing onto the back of the couch and rolling off it. Kaneki watched him land gracelessly on two feet, needing to catch himself once or twice. "I got off work at seven. So since then, pretty much. Did you get my calls? The texts?"

Kaneki had not looked at the texts or listened to his messages.

"I was busy," he said dully.

Hide sighed. He didn't say anything, really, but the sigh was enough for Kaneki to know that he was tired and worried and Kaneki had only himself to blame.

He shrugged off his white trench coat and tossed it over a chair. "Is Mutsuki okay?" he asked. His voice was strained.

"He seemed really shaken up last night." Hide studied Kaneki's face. "Do you want the truth?"

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"The only person hiding their feelings right now is you, Kaneki," Hide told him softly.

And Kaneki found himself watching a wall, his muscles straining tiredly as he lowered his forehead against his fist.

"The truth is," Hide said, "I think Mutsuki needs you. Like, not this you. This you that runs away and hides. He needs the person I know you know how to be, the one that can find the hope and the beauty in the bad things in life. I know you're closing up to him. Please don't close up, Kaneki."

"Is that something I've always done?" Kaneki uttered vacantly. His knuckles were cool against his forehead, a soothing sensation. "Have I always been this way?"

Hide didn't respond right away, which caused Kaneki to sigh. Yes, so it was true. He had always been ridiculous. An asshole that could not bear to watch anyone else hurting, so he turned his back to it.

"I think we are what we are raised to be," Hide said suddenly. "And it's not your fault that you retreat into this… this really distant, unapproachable person. I think that's just how you were taught to be."

"I don't want to be like this," Kaneki whispered. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come, so he stood still and let the hollowness consume him.

"Then try and _be_ here." Hide took a few strides toward him, and Kaneki stiffened as he was pulled into a gentle hug. "Don't push any more people away. We care about you, and you can tell us if something is wrong."

"Everything is wrong," Kaneki murmured.

"Then fuck everything!" Hide's hand clapped against Kaneki's head, and he rubbed it affectionately. "You want me to be honest, so I'm going to get as candid as I possibly can. If you want to be alone, Kaneki, you will never be happy. And neither will anyone who cares about you."

"I feel like…" He sighed, shrugging Hide off and rubbing his face tiredly. "I'm sorry. I just feel like I have to, like everyone would be better off if I wasn't part of their lives."

"That's fucking stupid."

"I know, but I can't help it," he groaned. "Even Washuu— sorry, um. My boss. One of my bosses. He told me that maybe… maybe Mutsuki being here isn't…"

Hide stood very still. He watched Kaneki, his eyes growing duller and duller and duller, until Kaneki felt that they had become dead husks within his skull.

"Maybe Mutsuki being here isn't what?" Hide asked flatly. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? What could your boss possibly know about your home environment?"

"Maybe I'm just not a good fit," Kaneki blurted. Hide stared with his dead gaze, and Kaneki felt the need to continue, to fix this, to _explain_. "He's so sad, Hide. I can't… I don't know how to help him. I'm not a good role model, and I'm not a good caretaker, and I think I've been making things worse."

"That doesn't mean shit, Kaneki," Hide said sharply. His voice was, perhaps, the closest thing to angry Kaneki had ever heard come from his mouth. "The answer to being unable to communicate is not to sever the fucking ties and wash your hands of it. Oh my god."

Kaneki actually had to look up, to study Hide's expression carefully as he whirled away. He was pushing his unruly blonde hair from his forehead, looking around the room bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki blurted. The last thing he wanted was for Hide to be angry with him.

"Don't be sorry," Hide said, rounding on him and raising his chin high. "Stop apologizing, Kaneki, and get a grip. I love you, and I know everything is hard right now, but you _cannot_ keep pushing everyone away when you decide that it's too hard to help them. Mutsuki!" He twisted to face the door, jerking his finger at it. "I know you're listening, man, you can come out."

A silence stretched before them. Kaneki held his breath as the door slowly opened. Mutuski's warm hued face was bared, tired and weary, vaguely miserable and sort of distressed.

They all stood. None of them met the other's eyes.

Then, Mutsuki broke the silence.

"Why didn't you come home?"

He sounded so small and desperate.

Kaneki found everything in him beginning to soften. There was a spark, like a feeling, coughing in his chest.

"I don't know," he admitted. Both Hide and Mutsuki glanced at him incredulously. "I wanted to be alone. So I was alone."

"And now?" Hide asked cautiously. "Do you still want to be alone?"

Tears stung Kaneki's eyes.

He shook his head mutely.

* * *

"Morning, trash."

The packet of meat clapped against her lap, and she twisted wildly to glare at Ayato as he passed by. The room was its usual dingy, grayish mass of light waves that fell through dusty windows as though with uncertainty. It was cold, and it was dark, but Touka now had her own mat and blanket. And nobody bothered her in here, because it was Ayato's domain.

"What the fuck is this for?" she asked, holding up the meat package sharply. "I can go out and hunt if I want."

"You can do that _and_ eat your rations." Ayato offered a shrug. "Not my rules. Are you coming with me tonight?"

It had been about a week since the ghoul restaurant. She had been allowed out and about, mostly on perimeter patrolling and such, but she had yet to really leave the warehouse. Ayato had been hanging around her a lot more too, which was… refreshing. Unfortunately she had no idea if anything had really progressed between them. They talked somewhat civilly, and he allowed her to sleep in the same room as him, but they'd also gotten into their fair share of scuffles. Touka had begun stealing more and more of Ayato's shirts, because his rowdy fighting style put holes in hers.

"Nobody told me I was." Touka shrugged, and she gingerly plucked at the ends of the packet. Her stomach was growling. It would be a waste. "What's the mission?"

"Fuck if I know." Ayato scoffed, collapsing onto his mat and kicking off his boots. They were shabby and muddy, the leather stressed from use. "Probably something dull."

"Everything is dull to you," Touka remarked, carefully unfolding the paper. The meat inside was sliced neatly, and she suspected Ayato was to be thanked for the handy work. "Maybe one day you'll be happy with what you have."

"Oh man," Ayato said glumly, glowering at her through his fluffy swaths of bangs, "shut the fuck up."

"Just saying," she said, pinching the meat and tearing a string of it away. "You're not a little kid. Not getting joy out of fucking with people is _normal_. Maybe you should find something you like to do other than butchering humans."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ayato huffed. "Are you saying I don't have a life? Fuck you, sis."

"You literally have no life." Touka popped the meat into her mouth, blood staining the lines of her fingers. "Face it. If the only thing that gets you up in the morning is making people miserable, you must have a shitty life."

Ayato hurled a shoe at her, and she ducked it easily.

"Just laying down the facts, bro," she said slyly. He looked genuinely angry— possibly even hurt. His face was twisted and his eyes alight with fury. He snatched his other shoe and whipped at her head. It bounced off her shoulder, and she winced. "Can you not have a tantrum while I'm eating?"

"Go to hell!"

"Chill," she remarked, chewing a sweet wad of meat and thinking to herself that she had no idea who this was or where they came from or what their story was, and it hurt not knowing. "I'm teasing you. Learn to take a goddamn joke."

"Your sense of humor is shitty," Ayato sneered.

Her brow raised, and she snorted. She popped some more meat into her mouth, blood warm against her throat. This could have been a child or a mother. This could have been a father that would never come home.

"Well," she said brightly, scooping a goopy glob of meat onto her finger, "can't deny that!"

Ayato glared at her as she chewed.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full," he snapped. "How revolting."

She began to chew with her mouth open deliberately to fuck with him.

"Ugh." Ayato jumped to his feet. "I'm out of here."

"Later, hater."

"Bitch."

Touka watched him leave. She smirked to herself, scooping the last portion of meat into her mouth before folding the packet carefully and wiping her fingers off on it. She also dabbed the corners of her mouth.

It had been a good meal, which troubled her.

She tugged on her socks and boots, moving lethargically toward the bathroom. Eating hadn't really lifted her spirits like she'd hoped it would. Now she just felt bloated and sick. She couldn't even really explain it, because she _had_ been hungry— but now she just felt nauseous and sad.

She missed Anteiku.

After washing her face and hands, she found herself summoned for who knew what reason to Tatara. At this point, she didn't find it strange. He often called on her to patrol when they were short-handed. However, it was rather early for a patrol, and she knew Ayato was around.

Tatara was already speaking to someone when she walked in, so she simply directed her course around the strangers. He noticed her immediately, and their eyes met while she attempted to fade into obscurity.

"Here she is." Tatara leaned forward, and he dragged two fingers in the air at her as though to suggest a command. Come here. She scowled, and thought about staying put, but she was far too aware of her limitations here. She moved forward. "Kirishima was a resident of the twentieth ward until recently. If Kamishiro was there, I'm sure Kirishima knew of it."

"This is about Rize?" Touka asked before she could stop herself.

The man who Tatara had been speaking with whirled to face her. He was a rather brawny man, his shoulders broad and his neck thick. He had neatly trimmed facial hair, a goatee that spiraled at his chin. It was funny to look at.

"You knew her!" he gasped. Touka took a step back when he rushed up to her. "Is it possible that she's still in the twentieth ward? Do you think?"

"Dude, no," Touka said, grimacing and holding her hands up. She pushed them into the air, a gesture that suggested he should take a few steps back. "Rize's long gone."

"Explain," Tatara demanded, ignoring how the man's entire spirit seemed to be crushed. "She left the twentieth ward, then?"

"Um." Touka didn't know what this was about, but she got a distinctly awful feeling about it. Like she probably should act dumb about what she knew had happened. "I wasn't really close to her. She came into our shop sometimes, and I knew she was trouble so I tried to keep my distance. I don't know what happened to her."

"So she disappeared?"

Touka glanced at the man's face beside her. He looked fearful and heartbroken.

"Essentially," she replied. She stuck her hands into the pockets of Ayato's sweatshirt. "Do you want my advice, or something? Don't go looking for her. Rize only ever brought trouble."

"Can you comprehend, Kirishima," Tatara asked dully, "that perhaps that is exactly why we're curious about her?"

"She dragged doves into the twentieth ward," Touka said coolly. "You want doves up your ass, trash king? Be my guest."

"She probably just— just _left_ , right?" the bulky man gasped, glancing between Touka and Tatara desperately. "She must have seen the doves coming and ran for it!"

Tatara spared him a glance. He looked unimpressed.

"Maybe," he said. He turned his attention on Touka. "You have a new mission. Find out what happened to Kamishiro Rize."

Touka felt a chill flood her veins. She gripped her hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt, her body shrinking lethargically as she processed these words. Find Kamishiro Rize. Why the hell would anyone go looking for such an awful person?

"Fine," she said stiffly. "But I'll have to go back to the twentieth ward— which isn't exactly a safe place for me."

"You have a new mask. I don't see the problem." Tatara's eyes flicked knowingly over her face, and she nearly shivered. "Are you scared?"

"There is a difference between fear," she said coolly, "and caution, Tatara."

He merely stared at her, his eyes reflecting nothing of his inner thoughts. Touka suspected he didn't have any. He was like a fucking machine, and that scared her. She didn't want to be scared of some hollow eyed son of a bitch who had an attitude problem, but she felt so distinctly disposable when facing him. Like he'd toss her to Noro if she took a toe out of line.

"Find her," he said firmly.

Touka found herself smiling grimly.

"Sure," she muttered. "Your majesty."

She had no idea what she was going to do.

The worst of it was that now she had an entourage.

"Look," she snapped, rounding on the ghoul and his cronies as they followed her from the room. "I get it, you had the hots for Rize. Huge surprise. But I can do this alone."

"I want to help you find her!" The man watched her, his brow knitting together. What was his name? Banjou? Ugh, Touka didn't have the time or patience. "She could be in trouble."

"She _is_ trouble," she said darkly. "I'm not going to say it again, okay? Your life would be better if you forgot she existed."

"I can't do that," Banjou sighed.

She looked up at him. He seemed like someone who could be intimidating if not for the fact that they were entirely soft and made of tissues. When he stared at her, his eyes were glistening. And she knew that he really did love Rize.

Which perhaps was the saddest thing in all of existence.

"I think she's dead," she told him. She couldn't bring herself to string him along, and it hurt to see his face crumple, but she felt like he needed to know. "If the doves didn't get her, someone else did. I'm sorry."

"You…" His voice was on the edge of an inhalation. "You don't know that for sure, though, right?"

"I can't know anything for sure," she murmured, dragging her wavy hair from her eye. It was such a mess nowadays, a bunch of dark wisps around her face. She should probably cut it. "I think this is a bad idea. Even if by some miracle she's alive— what do we even do with her?"

Banjou watched her with a wide, guileless gaze.

Touka rubbed her face and whirled away. She had to figure out how she was going to approach this.

Also, how she was going to alert the CCG.

Later that night, when Banjou had finally gone off on his own to sleep, and Ayato had gone on his mission, she quietly left the warehouse. No one stopped her. She was on her own mission now.

She'd sent a text to Kaneki during the day to meet her. She sat on a rooftop overlooking the skyline of the twentieth ward, wind slicing through her worn, blood stained jacket. Her mask was firmly in place, the only stars the city could see, for the lights were burning neon scars into the deep blue horizon line. It was a surreal thing, the swell of civilization reaching for the sky, blotting out the stars, and clawing into the night.

It was beautiful, but so distinctly sad. Why did humanity have to touch _everything_?

Kaneki dropped down beside her, his body heat reminding her where she was and how tired this all seemed. She was drained, and she didn't know how to compensate for that.

They sat quietly beside one another, watching the city lights swell and fade.

"Are you okay?" Kaneki asked.

She found that it was a struggle to answer that truthfully.

"Does that matter?" She looked at him sharply, hoping her irritation could be conveyed thoroughly through the crescent moon eyes of her mask.

He didn't even blink.

"Yes." He faced her fully, and she saw that his face was worn and tired. There were dark circles under his eyes that looked to be more like bruises than bags. "It does to me."

"Your opinion means jack shit, Kaneki Ken."

He smiled, and there was a twinge of amusement there.

"I know," he admitted, nodding slowly to himself. "I know. But, hey, we're both alive. Shouldn't that count for something?"

Touka snorted. "Not for long," she told him curtly, shoving him hard and watching as he almost tipped off the side of the building. He didn't even shout. He swiveled, his legs spinning in the air, and he regained his balance with ease. "Damn, and I thought I was rid of you."

"You actually pushed me kinda hard," Kaneki said, rolling one shoulder and crawling cautiously away from the edge. The roof was flat, and there was no fence, so Touka was lounging as close as she could to the drop off point. "What if I hadn't caught myself? Would you have saved me?"

"No."

Kaneki smiled at her warmly.

"You're a liar," he said softly.

She couldn't really deny that.

Very cautiously, she slipped off her mask and set it aside. Kaneki scooted closer again.

"Is Mutsuki okay?" she asked. She had vague recollections of the ghoul restaurant, of the boy's terrified face, of the mess that followed. Kaneki was stupid. Somebody had to teach that boy how to keep himself alive.

Touka would do it. Would have done it. If not for her shitty situation.

"He's… getting better." Kaneki glanced away sharply. "Thank you for asking, though. Um, also, thank you for protecting him. Did you get in trouble for it?"

"No, surprisingly." Touka offered a shrug. "Ayato managed to take most of the fall for our fight with Shittyama. What happened to _you_ though? I know you were there, but I don't really remember."

Kaneki grimaced. He leaned back tiredly, and he tipped his head toward the inky sky. "I pulled myself together," he managed to say. "Did Ayato tell anyone about me?"

"He said something about a one eyed ghoul," she admitted.

"Shit."

"I'm sure it's not a big deal," Touka tried to reassure him, or maybe herself. "I mean, they're not focusing on it. Actually, they want me to find fucking Rize."

Kaneki looked down at her sharply.

"Rize," he repeated. There was something weird about his voice here, something strained and foreign that didn't seem to suit him. Like long forgotten bitterness that welled up all of a sudden. He drew a breath, and she listened to it rattle against the fervent night sounds. "That's… unsurprising, I guess. Is that why you wanted to meet?"

"What am I supposed to do?" Touka asked him, searching his face and noting how he seemed to close up. He didn't even look approachable right now, which was annoying. She wanted to be able to see his emotions in his face, but right now he was just withdrawn and pensive. She had no fucking time or patience for that shit. "Rize is _dead_ , right? What the hell am I supposed to tell Aogiri?"

Kaneki sighed sharply, and she watched him cover his mouth with his hands. His eyes, which were normally dark and soupy, seemed to be alive with an indescribable amount of dissent. Like someone had jumped them, sparked some bare flicker of electricity into his brain, and now he was high on the slightest trace of energy.

"Okay," he murmured, dragging his fingers down his neck and hanging his head back. "Okay, okay, okay. I have to think. Why could they want Rize now?"

"Why would anyone want Rize ever?" Touka offered.

Kaneki snorted, and Touka eyed him knowingly.

"Why would you ever want to date her?" she muttered. "She was so… fake. Just. Perpetually. Are you just that easy to fool?"

"I have bad sense of judgement, Touka."

"Say it isn't so," she teased him in her dullest voice. When he didn't react, she rolled her eyes and started plucking absently at the sheer fabric on her mask. "She was pretty, though. I guess I get that. People can be really fooled by something with a pretty exterior."

"That's true." Kaneki didn't deny that he was one of those people. Touka wondered if he was just that gullible. "Touka, I have to be honest with you. Rize… probably isn't dead."

She glanced at him sharply.

"God fucking damn," she hissed, her eyes narrowing at him, "why didn't you say something sooner?"

"It didn't seem relevant?" Kaneki offered. She smacked him, decidedly, over the head, and he flinched. "And now it is! I'm sorry. I don't really know how to get to her, but I'm pretty sure she was taken."

"Taken?"

Kaneki was quiet, which caused her to get a distinct chill. She was trying to find something in his expression that might explain his off behavior. He seemed so much more distant now than ever before, and she wanted to know why, because it sort of hurt. She was so detached from everyone else now. She had so many secrets weighing on her. Kaneki seemed like the only person in the world she could really turn to now, and even he was somewhere far off and out of reach.

She hated this.

"Kanou— the doctor who did this to me…" Kaneki frowned deeply. "I think he took her. We— the CCG— have found evidence to suggest that Kanou might be taking kids from the junior academies and experimenting on them."

"Like he did with you?" Touka found that to be so… unreal. What kind of monster grabbed kids from the streets and fucked with their insides until something blew? It just didn't make any sense to her. "You know… my dad always taught me that humans weren't bad. But I think he was wrong. Some humans are really awful."

"Yes," Kaneki agreed. His eyes were swatches of shadows carved into his skull. "There are so many terrible humans— possibly as many as there are terrible ghouls. Being good isn't relative to your species, it's how you act that matters."

"It's hard to be good," Touka admitted.

Kaneki glanced at her. She saw something shining in his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed in a soft little voice.

They were silent for a few minutes, their heads turned toward the skyline, observing the way the lights bloomed like halos around buildings.

"So what do we do about Rize?" she asked.

Kaneki sighed. "If they're looking for her," he said, "they'll probably find out about me sooner or later. What's troubling is that they'll probably end up getting to Kanou."

"Which would be bad, yeah." Touka grimaced. "Wouldn't they just try to make more half ghouls like you and Mutsuki?"

"Definitely."

Touka gave a bitter laugh, and she felt utterly defeated. "Sounds like they're not so different from the doves," she muttered.

Kaneki had no real response to that.

"I'll take this info to the CCG," he told her gently. "I'll make sure to get more conclusive info, but for the time being, don't tell them anything. Or like, let slip that you have leads. Heard about Rize disappearing after an accident, or something. I don't know if I want them to know about me yet."

"Um, wouldn't it be bad if they knew about you at all?" Touka gasped. "Kaneki, you're the only thing keeping this going! If they find out about you, they might find out about me!"

"They might already know about me," he told her sharply. "Touka, we have to be careful, yes, but my existence is not a secret. The entire CCG knows that I'm a half ghoul, and it's only a matter of time before that becomes real, widespread knowledge. Our best option right now is to keep you safe within Aogiri's ranks, and that means feeding them information so they feed _you_ information. You'll never find out anything if they don't trust you."

"This is a bad idea, Kaneki," she told him curtly. "This is just bad. What if they find Kanou and join up with him?"

Kaneki looked at her dully. "We'll just have to find him first," he said.

"You're insane!"

"I'm optimistic," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "I think our roads might converge on Kanou. That'd give the CCG ample time to prepare themselves to fight Aogiri."

Touka stared at him. She looked into his eyes, and she saw an immense amount of nothing. Just hollow pits in his skull. It was almost scary. She wanted to look away, but she was entranced, because this seemed so far from the boy who she'd become acquainted with.

"What do I do," she whispered, "when it's over?"

Kaneki shook his head. He turned away. "I have my boss's word that you'll be safe," he said. "When it comes to it, I'll make good on that promise. Okay?"

She swallowed hard, remaining completely unconvinced. But she didn't know what else to do. So she nodded.

Once more, they were overcome by the drowning silence. She couldn't look at his face any longer, and the city lights were burning her eyes, so she just closed them. The sounds around her were all muddled, mixes of far off voices and vibrating music and wheels rushing over asphalt.

Some light pressure landed on her shoulder, and she raised her eyes.

"Can I…?" Kaneki seemed to struggle with what he wanted to ask. His fingers disappeared under the faux fur of her hood. "Do you… want a hug?"

Touka nearly choked. What kind of fucking question was that? Of course she didn't. Why would she want a hug from this asshole?

But then she realized her face was wet.

And her throat felt so tight.

When had she even started crying?

No. She didn't want a hug. This was so embarrassing, and she struggled to contain her emotions as she blotted the tears away with her sleeve.

But something in her was aching, and she couldn't really quell the void left within her, so she very cautiously leaned into his touch. Just a little.

Hugs were so strange. She didn't normally participate, because she always felt small and awkward, like she was a scarecrow and she could never bend the right way. But she wasn't really hugging anyone. She was just leaning, and Kaneki did the rest, his arms cautiously winding around her shoulders and pressing her closer to him. She didn't know if she should feel overwhelmed by discomfort here, because she didn't know him very well, and he was close enough that she could smell his skin. Her only real thought on the matter was that this was _warm_.

Everything around her had been so cold lately. The warehouse, the mat she slept on, Ayato's words and looks, the company she kept. Even her own mind seemed to be a frigid place to spend time in. But Kaneki's touch was very light, his arms holding her loosely against his side, and it was a nice deviation from the shivering sense that she needed to back away from everything and everyone before they brushed against her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and warily let her cheek fall to his shoulder.

He smelled very sweet and mellow, like a kitchen in the midst of a dinner rush or Anteiku right in the early morning. He smelled like coffee the same way she knew she smelled like coffee— it was an underlying scent that clung to their pores, attached itself to their hair and clothing, claiming them as the sleep deprived slaves to caffeine they were. There were other scents intermingled here and there— eucalyptus and sweat, pencil shavings and ink. Crisp, soothing smells that reminded her that this was a real person, and that she was real too.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. His cheek was close to her forehead, and his words were lost in the waves of her hair.

She didn't know what to say in response. His apology was so empty, it almost made her want to pull back and run off. She watched the city out of the corner of her eye, lights reflecting off her irises, and she rested her arms against his waist. She didn't want to hold him any tighter, but even now she could feel the space between his coat and his ribs, and she wondered how life under the CCG's thumb affected a ghoul's health.

"I didn't want this," he continued. She listened, her eyes drooping tiredly. She could hear the struggle in his breaths— the uncertainty that was born in every sigh. "I wish it could have been anyone else but you."

"It doesn't matter," she said.

"It does. To me, it does."

"It doesn't matter," she repeated. Her throat felt tight again. She could hear the tears in her voice, and she hated it. She didn't want him to know how sad she was, but it felt like it was just too late for that.

They went back to their comfortable silence, and she wondered when time would restart and she'd go back to hating herself again.

" _Allora._ Isn't this intimate?"

Touka jumped, untangling herself from Kaneki's hug and jerking to her feet. "What the _fuck_?" she gasped, her voice breaking mildly. There was a sniffle in her voice, and she winced.

Tsukiyama Shuu walked breezily toward them, looking unperturbed by her outburst. Kaneki continued to sit on the ground, staring out off the roof and into somewhere far and unknown. She wanted to kick him off again.

"You look so shocked, Kirishima," Tsukiyama chuckled, getting rather close and touching her chin with the tip of his finger. "I'm just teasing you, silly."

She kicked him square in the chest as hard she as she possibly could. He went flying back, though he managed to catch himself at the last second before he flipped onto his ass. She felt a little sick, and sort of dizzy with rage. She touched her chin, as though she could rub away his touch.

"Ouch." Tsukiyama rubbed his chest, and he frowned at her. "Are you sore about what happened at the restaurant? Honestly, Kirishima, I wasn't aiming for you."

She was seething. Her rage was thudding within her, the beat of it like drums inside her head, and her heart could not keep up with the strident tone. She was going to rip him apart.

"Tsukiyama," Kaneki said coldly from his place on the ground. "If you can't play nicely, I'm going to kill you."

"You know," Tsukiyama sighed, "when you say it like that, it sounds rather like an empty threat, don't you think?"

"After what you did to Mutsuki," Kaneki said, stretching his legs and rising to his feet, "I think you might just deserve it."

"Is _that_ what this is about?" Tsukiyama laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're still sore about me taking your pet? Well, fine. I'm sorry I did that. I had no idea he meant that much to you."

"He's not my pet, and you knew _exactly_ how much he meant to me because I warned you multiple times to stay away from him." Kaneki looked, quite frankly, scary pissed. Touka took a step back if only to appreciate the scene as it unfolded. "I should have killed you when I had the chance. I don't know why I bother. I don't know why I keep thinking you'll change."

"I'm here, am I not?" Tsukiyama offered up his arms, a smirk tight on his lips. He was so slimy and gross, like god fucking damn, Touka wanted to rip half his face off with nothing but her stubby, unevenly bitten nails. "You said you wanted something from me, and I'm here to deliver. What is it? I'll admit, my range of services is quite broad."

"Ew," Touka said flatly. He shot her a wicked grin, because they both knew Kaneki had not picked up the implications.

"I just want to know how far you're willing to go," Kaneki said calmly. "For your life— or maybe just because you're a piece of shit. If I asked you to kill a ghoul, would you do it?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't have any qualms, so long as it's no one I'm attached to," Tsukiyama replied. He looked suddenly curious, his eyes flitting between the two of them. "Oh my. This is getting exciting. Kirishima, do tell me your involvement with this man. You never seemed the type to be so sneaky and conniving."

"This is none of your business," Touka snapped. She whirled on Kaneki, her eyes flashing dangerously. "This is a waste of time. You can't reason with him, and you definitely can't trust him! Let's go before you fuck things up even worse."

"If I could trade you for him," Kaneki said suddenly, looking into her eyes and seeming to fade exponentially, like a lightbulb fizzling out, "would that make you happy?"

She stood, frozen in shock, and she tried to wrap her head around what he was asking her

These dumb fucking boys playing their dumb fucking tricks with their dumb fucking words.

Why did they care so much what would make her happy?

It wasn't like they had anything that she wanted.

"What?" she asked faintly. Tsukiyama even looked a little bemused, his brow furrowing as he tried to unravel the mysteries behind Kaneki's words. "I— wait, are you asking if I want to be replaced by Tsukiyama? Oh my god, are you fucking insane?"

"You don't want to do this," Kaneki sighed. "You hate it, and you're sad, and I'm scared for your future here. You could go home. You don't have to do this anymore. Touka, please—"

"It is way too fucking late to go back, Kaneki," she told him coldly. He looked at her, and she could sense his sadness and resignation. "I made a choice, and I'm sticking with it. Like, what the hell? You think this heap of trash can do this job better than me? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

He didn't respond, but she could tell that her words had instilled some sense of shame within him. Which was refreshing.

"I'm not entirely sure what's happening," Tsukiyama announced, "but color me curious. Deal me in, Kaneki. I want to know what I can do."

"He's not taking over my job," Touka told Kaneki fiercely, "and I am _not_ working with him."

"That's fine," he assured her gently. "You don't have to. I only wanted to know if you wanted to stop, but I understand. I don't know what I expected, honestly."

"Dumbass."

He smiled at her in response.

"Tsukiyama, before I tell you anything," he said, rounding on the awful man, "I need to know that you're in. Like, you will do whatever I tell you to do, no questions asked. I won't ask you to put your life at risk if you're not willing."

"My life," he cooed. "Now the stakes have heightened. Oh, this is better than I could have dreamed! What are you two planning? I have to be in on it."

"Ugh," Touka spat, glowering furiously at the ground. She couldn't fucking believe this.

"All I want," Kaneki said, "is for you to give me information. You don't have to hurt anyone, or do anything outside the norm. Just tell me things."

"Oh?" Tsukiyama blinked his heavily lidded eyes, his smile so sly and knowing. "What kinds of things? For what purpose?"

"You're smart, Tsukiyama." Kaneki stared at him, and that stare seemed to invoke all the hollow depths of his heart. "You tell me what this is."

The three of them watched each other warily. The silence grew and stretched and twisted. It broke apart with a shudder and a moan.

"You want me to spy on ghouls for the doves?" Tsukiyama, as terrible as he was, deigned to be shocked. He looked away suddenly, closing his chin in his hand and blinking rapidly. "Ah. I see."

"It's your choice," Kaneki said. "But you have to understand… if you turn against me, this is it. I will kill you the next time we meet."

"You say that every time we meet," Tsukiyama said with a distant chuckle.

"This time I won't be alone, and I won't be able to defend you from the CCG." Kaneki's voice was cold and hard. "It's your choice. I don't want to kill you, but I think it would make Mutsuki feel better if I did." Kaneki turned away. "I wonder if it would be worth it."

"Do it," Touka muttered.

Tsukiyama looked slightly frazzled, as though he couldn't quite believe this was happening. What the hell did he even expect? Touka wished she could throttle him, but this didn't seem like the time to pick a fight.

"All I have to do," he said, "is give you information… and you'll make sure the CCG leaves me alone?"

"Yep. That's it. Simple, right?" Kaneki eyed him with a hint of distrust. "Take my offer or leave it, Tsukiyama."

The sense of dread that came between them now was palpable. Touka knew Tsukiyama could not be trusted, but Kaneki was risking everything for this anyway. Why? What could have possessed him to think this was a good idea?

Bad sense of judgement? God fucking damn, that was a shitty excuse!

"Well then," Tsukiyama breathed, waving his hand in a flourish beside his cheek, "who am I to refuse?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> effugium, effugii.  
> escape, flight; means of escape; avoidance.


	22. parumper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for: mentions of rape and child abuse.
> 
> i remember writing this chapter and not being entirely comfortable with writing it but feeling like i needed to write it anyway. the warnings are just warnings, just in case, because shock value is cheap. i don't feel like shocking people with stuff like this. so i'm telling the readers ahead of time.
> 
> as for the chapter itself, i won't lie, it's a filler. even when i was writing it i was so annoyed with it because i was like "wow i'm never going to move this story along at all" and i'm just always salty at myself for my writing process. so, anyway, this chapter is my interpretation of things, as always, and i hope i did okay with it?

The room was dark, shadows crawling across the floor from the small stack of boxes that had accumulated over the past week. Everything was moving so fast, it seemed. One day he was coming home to his shabby apartment, crashing on the couch while Mutsuki sat on the other side of the table, diligently reading through a file— and the next they were packing up and heading out. Kaneki felt the restlessness of the move rattling in his skin, like he was displaced and beyond himself and this room and this home that he had not quite realized was a home until he found himself forced to leave.

Well, not really forced. But it was too cramped, and Kaneki's life was getting too full.

Full of people. Full of responsibilities.

He rolled over onto his side, the lumpy couch digging into his ribs. He watched the light and the shadow create bars on the walls, shifting slow and shifting steady, like the rise and fall of a rib cage.

If he let his mind go just a little— if he could just suppress the strain of multiple lives that pressed against his skull and forced him to be alert and unnerved even in the dead of night— he might just be able to remember the feeling of his mother's chest against his back. Her breath against his hair. Her scent, eucalyptus and crushed chamomile tea leaves, invading his nose and lulling him into slumber.

But his mother wasn't here. She was dead, and he was alone, and maybe it was better that way.

He wanted to remember all the good things, but lately all that was resurfacing from the cold cavities of his mind were the bad, bad, bad things.

Like how his mother had hit him.

"Nice turtleneck," Hide had teased him. "What's up, nerd, Star Wars any good? Because you look like you just walked out of 1977."

"Ah…" Kaneki had plucked nervously at the rather oversized blue monstrosity that was reminiscent of the carpet at his pediatrician's office. There was an orange pattern that lazed across it that may just have been UFOs, but Kaneki had never been sure about that because the blobs were vague. "Is it really that bad?"

"Actually," Hide had admitted sheepishly, "I think it's kinda cool. Like, retro for sure, but in a fun way. It's unique. But also, it's so _hot out_ , man!" Hide tugged on the sweater's hem just enough for the already loose turtleneck to dip. Hide's eyes had landed on Kaneki's neck, probably on the line between his shoulder and collarbone where an angry purple bruise was bursting red as it began to heal. Kaneki had quickly pulled the collar back up, and buried his mouth in it.

He remembered telling himself in a hopeless mantra that Hide had seen nothing.

Because Hide had not said anything, so of course that meant that there was nothing to worry about, right?

 _He doesn't know anything, he doesn't know anything, he doesn't know anything_.

Over and over and over. The cycle just kept fucking repeating. But Hide always knew. Every time.

In hindsight, maybe it would have been better… for everyone involved… if Hide had told someone.

Maybe his mother would still be alive.

Maybe Kaneki wouldn't feel quite so fucked up and unsure of his actions.

But it wasn't really fair to pin the blame on Hide, who had been nothing but a child, who had certainly no understanding of the fragility of the situation. And Kaneki knew that he would have felt betrayed. He would have been so hurt if Hide had done that to him, even if it was for his own good.

And to be fair, he wasn't even sure _now_ if it would have been for his own good, because he still missed her terribly, with all that was left inside him, and he fucking hated himself for it.

He didn't even know if he'd loved her in any real way beyond _needing_ her. And that was so scary.

Maybe if she were here now, she'd push the hair from his forehead and kiss his temple and hum to him gently.

But then she'd open her mouth, and it'd all go downhill from there.

Still. He ached for it.

Nobody really touched his head and kissed his hair and told him he was good anymore. He didn't have that. He had to do that for others now, and it was so strange and foreign and frightening. Because they needed it so much more, and he didn't know how much he could give before he'd be absolutely hollow.

Would his mother be proud of him? For all his detachments? All his insecurities? All his tendencies to swing like a knife on a wire over a cradle. Live, die, live, die. Happy, sad, happy, sad. Reality, delusion, reality, delusion. It was just the mark she'd left bruised upon his heart and his brain and oh, oh, oh _no_ — would he ever shake it?

It was so hard to admit that he'd been fucked up long before Rize had sunk her teeth into him.

A sudden terrified cry sent him bolting upright. He blinked rapidly, his blanket falling into his lap as the steady silence followed, leaving the scream hanging limply in the air. Kaneki threw the blanket back, his breath hitching in his throat. The sound began again, louder and sharper and drawn out. Kaneki lurched to his feet and fell over himself trying to reach the bedroom door.

"Mutsuki!" He flung the door open, blinking wildly around the room. It was overwhelmingly bare, the shelf emptied of books, the desk swiped clean of papers and old notebooks. Even the curtains had been taken down from the window, allowing light to filter in clearly from the street.

In the bed, Mutsuki was tossing and turning, the blanket kicked onto the floor and sheets wrestling with his legs. Kaneki switched on a lamp, which had once been on a bedside table but was now sitting on the bare floor. There was no rug, because Kaneki had packed it away the day before. The cool wood was biting into his toes.

As faded yellow light drenched the corner of the room, Kaneki saw Mutsuki's face a little clearer. It was contorted in pain, twisted up around his nose and lips as he curled up and hugged his arms to his chest. He was breathing very heavily, his shoulders shaking and his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. Kaneki didn't know what to do.

He really didn't know what to do!

Was this a nightmare? Or was Mutsuki actually very ill or hurt?

There was no way for Kaneki to tell without checking.

"Mutsuki," he gasped, edging closer to the bed and holding out his hands. They hovered a solid meter away from Mutsuki's body. "Hey. Hey, it's time to wake up."

Kaneki very gingerly set his hand on Mutsuki's shoulder. In less than a second, not only was his hand whacked away, but Mutsuki had shoved him so hard that he'd toppled off the bed and Kaneki crashed to the floor. He struggled to pull himself together, sitting up and blinking rapidly as he watched Mutsuki struggle and gasp, dragging himself slowly across the floor inch by inch.

"Mutsuki!" Kaneki didn't care about being gentle anymore. This boy needed to wake up _now_. He crawled up to his side and attempted to scoop him up by the waist. That set off some kind of trigger, causing a sound to escape Mutsuki's mouth that Kaneki never wanted to hear ever again. He wasn't just screaming, but he was _wailing_ , clawing at the floor desperately as Kaneki attempted to pull him upright. "Wake up! You're dreaming! You're okay, you're fine, it's just me!"

"Let me go—!" Mutsuki twisted and swung, cuffing Kaneki hard over the head. It was almost enough to make him release the boy, but Kaneki managed to readjust his grip so he'd hooked his arms beneath Mutsuki's and pinned his arms away. When his arms were rendered immobile, he began to kick pitifully, his bare feet scraping the floor, trying to find traction, as though he thought that maybe he could still run if he really tried hard. "Let… let me… please… I… I won't run again, I _swear_ I won't run again, just let me go, I won't…"

"Mutsuki," Kaneki gasped. What was happening? Why had this happened? Why wouldn't he just wake up? _Oh my god,_ Kaneki thought, his throat closing up as Mutsuki twisted and cried, too far gone in his sleep to realize what a weak grip Kaneki really had on him. _Oh my god, what do I do, what do I do?_ " _Mutsuki_! It's okay! You're okay!"

But his words were not reaching him.

Why?

What nightmare was he stuck in that was so fucking bad that he couldn't escape the intensity of it?

Kaneki could not judge. He had been in this position before. Screaming. Screaming. Not knowing where the dream stopped and the nightmare began. Reality was a faded swatch of wallpaper at the end of a long, narrow corridor, and he could not focus long enough to see it.

He remembered this. Lying curled up on his side, a scream in his throat and a plea on his tongue, and he had not known when or where he was, but it had been so vivid and terrible, the needle in his eye, the centipede in his ear, so he'd just screamed and screamed and screamed until he found that some time during his fit of screams, tiny hands had lifted up his head and place it in a lap.

When he'd finally came to, he found his tears being dried by Hinami's dress. Her small fingers had smooth a new part into his hair as she'd stroked it away from his face.

"I'm here, Big Brother," she'd told him absently, continuing to stroke his hair as though he were the child and she the guardian. "Please go back to sleep. Dream me a good dream."

Kaneki released Mutsuki and watched him scramble to get away. He sat quietly on the floor as Mutsuki lowered himself to the ground, his arms curling around his chest once more.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I… I'll be good, I promise. I won't tell. I won't tell… I won't tell…"

Kaneki folded his legs beneath him. Mutsuki's sobs flooded the room.

"One thousand," Mutsuki uttered shakily. Kaneki looked at him sharply. "Nine… nine… nine… nine… nine… eight… nine… nine… s-seven… nine, nine… s-s—"

_Count backwards from a thousand!_

Kaneki felt sick.

He crawled on his hands and knees closer to Mutsuki, who was lost in his countdown, utterly stolen by the mantra.

Kaneki took Mutsuki's tear streaked face in his hands, and he raised it.

"No more counting," he said firmly. "Take a deep breath, Mutsuki. Deep breath, and wake up."

At first there was no real reaction, and Kaneki thought Mutsuki was going to whack him again. But then Mutsuki hiccuped, and his body sort of crumpled.

"Ooh…" he groaned. "Oh… no…"

"It's okay." Kaneki placed a hand on the top of Mutsuki's head. The other wound around his shoulder gingerly as he shrunk. He let Kaneki hold him, perhaps only because he had no will to push him away. "It happens. Just take deep breaths."

He did. Mutsuki's rattling breaths filled the room, some sniffles and hiccups joining in abruptly. After a few minutes turned into ten, he finally pried himself away.

"I…" He dragged his hands over his face. "Oh no… Kaneki…"

"You don't have to say anything," Kaneki told him gently. "Please. Just relax. It happens, okay? I'm just glad you woke up."

"What…" Mutsuki's face looked stricken and faded in the soft yellow light. His kakugan was glowing eerily, reflecting the glow like a small sun amongst the vacuous black mass of space. "What did I say? I'm so sorry, Kaneki, I didn't—!"

"It happens," Kaneki repeated, taking him firmly by the shoulder and staring into his eyes. "Listen, we don't have to talk about this right now. Just sit here. Don't think so much. This will pass."

Mutsuki took a deep breath, and it sounded more like a gulp than anything else. He cautiously scooted closer and pressed his back up against the bed beside Kaneki, his knees pulling up to his chest.

They sat in silence, watching the opposite wall and letting the night drag itself by its nails. They didn't speak again for a while, and Mutsuki's head drooped. It hit Kaneki's shoulder, and he jolted upright again.

"You're allowed to rest your head on me if you want."

Mutsuki glanced at him nervously. In the poor yellow filter of the dim lamp, he looked sickly and small, like a child who'd been in intensive care and had only just been released. He closed his eyes tiredly and rested his mouth against his knees.

Kaneki was at a loss. Mutsuki wouldn't respond, and he wouldn't get comfortable, and Kaneki couldn't even blame him because what had just happened had been so jarring and awful. And Kaneki sympathized.

It was so strange knowing that he was the only person in the entire world who could possibly give Mutsuki any sense of solace right now.

What rotten luck this boy had.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively.

Mutsuki didn't answer yes or no, but he did raise his eyes and look sadly into Kaneki's eyes.

He turned away, solemnly resting his head back against the mattress. "I don't know," he admitted.

"You don't have to. If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to…" Kaneki didn't know what to do. Not even a little bit. "Hey. Um, Mutsuki… you know you can say if you don't want Shirazu to live with us."

Earlier in the week, Shirazu had stopped by to meet Mutsuki. If they were going to work together, they had to know each other and get along. The meeting had gone better than expected, because Kaneki had anticipated their personalities to clash. Fortunately Mutsuki was an openhearted kid, and seemed to enjoy Shirazu's brashness in spite of his own reservations.

And then, without really thinking, Mutsuki had asked Shirazu if he was moving in with them.

Needless to say, they were all shocked, and Shirazu was forced to admit that he had no place to stay once the junior academy officially booted him out. So Kaneki made a split second decision. And now they were moving into a much roomier apartment, mostly courtesy of the CCG.

But Kaneki was aware of how this could be incredibly uncomfortable. Shirazu and Mutsuki had gotten along, but living together was a completely different story. Not to mention Kaneki mostly wanted Shirazu to move in out of spite towards Yoshitoki.

And also, possibly, because it would do Mutsuki some good to be around someone who wasn't Kaneki all the time.

But now they were here, and they were going to move out soon, and it was all happening so fast. What could they even do?

"It's not _that_!" Mutsuki gasped, giving Kaneki an astonished glance. "Shirazu— no. It's fine. I couldn't deny him a home even if I didn't like him. I wouldn't be able to do that, it'd make me a hypocrite."

Kaneki stared at him. He turned to face him fully, raising his chin high. "Whatever this is about," Kaneki said, "it won't change anything. You can tell me. You don't have to, but I'm letting you know that it's okay. You can."

Mutsuki groaned. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and shrunk into the floor.

Then, he let them fall to his sides. He stared up at the ceiling, and Kaneki couldn't help but notice how absolutely dead his gaze was. The hollowness in his eyes sunk in. He was tired of this. Whatever it was.

"Fine," he said softly. His mismatched gaze flickered sharply to Kaneki's face. "But only if you tell me a secret first."

"What?"

"A secret for a secret," Mutsuki said firmly. "It's only fair."

Kaneki couldn't help but smile. It seemed like such a juvenile thing to do, but also a bit like a fairy tale. A secret for a secret. Who could shock the other worse?

"Okay," Kaneki agreed. Mutsuki looked surprised. And suddenly very scared. "I'll go first. But let's go make some coffee first, okay? I'm pretty sure neither of us are getting any more sleep tonight."

Mutsuki did not disagree. And so they moved, albeit lethargically, from the bedroom to the living room. Kaneki had to pull cups out of boxes. Mutsuki curled up in a seat and rested his head against the arm of the chair. His eyes were glazed over as he watched the wall dazedly.

Kaneki handed him the coffee and watched his shaky fingers close around the cup tentatively. He'd raised his head, and decidedly straightened up a bit. Though he was still curled close to the corner of the chair, his eyes droopy and dead.

"I'll start." Kaneki took a gulp of the scalding coffee, letting it sear down his throat and warm his chest cavity like his heart had been touched by fire. It was bitter and sad, but so was he, so he couldn't really complain. "I've orchestrated what is essentially an agenda to integrate ghouls into the CCG."

Mutsuki straightened up, his eyes suddenly sharp and alert. "Excuse me?" he gasped.

"Yeah." Kaneki took another gulp. Mutsuki's eyes were so big that they seemed to fill up his skull, and he mutely mirrored Kaneki's action. "So. That's what I've been up to. It's a huge secret, so please keep this between us. I could really easily lose my life because of this dumb plot."

"I…" Mutsuki lowered his head. "I don't think it's dumb."

Kaneki might have dropped his cup in shock, but he was too tired and also too damn shocked. "Huh?"

"I don't think it's dumb at all," Mutsuki mumbled against his cup. "I… don't agree with our treatment of ghouls. I think we should be more lenient."

Kaneki's chest was filled with warmth, and this time he couldn't blame the coffee. He was startled by how genuine and sweet this boy was. He wanted to hug him, but he thought it unwise right now. So he settled for smiling fondly.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm gambling a lot on this. If I fuck up, a lot of people could get hurt."

"Well," Mutsuki sighed, "better not fuck up then."

"Easier said than done, bud."

Mutsuki laughed. It was a hollow sounding little thing, but it was there, and it made Kaneki smile wider. But then it stopped, and Mutsuki looked miserable again.

He took a sip of coffee, and the silence took over again, its mighty fist crashing down and catching them both by the throats.

Mutsuki took a deep, shaky breath, as though he was on the edge of tears.

"I…" He quickly set the glass mug down on the table and closed his eyes. "I guess I should begin with… why. Why this happened to me. Um. At the academy, people said some… things. Really nasty things. About me, about my family. That I killed them, and that I was killing animals around the facility… it was awful. They called me psychotic. I never talked to anyone, so my silence was taken as a confirmation. I was just a crazy, fucked up kid who no one wanted to be around, but everyone talked about. Consistently. It was torture."

"Why did they think that about you?" Kaneki whispered. He didn't want to admit that this was something he'd already known.

Mutsuki lowered his head, once more resting his cheek against the arm of the chair. He wasn't looking at Kaneki, but instead staring past his head and into somewhere in the void beyond it.

"Animals died all around the facility all the time. Since before I even got there. I just became the scapegoat for someone else's crime." Mutsuki's eyes met Kaneki's, mismatched and watery. "That someone was an instructor at the junior academy. I caught him cutting up a cat once. And of course…" Mutsuki laughed, and it was the most terrible sound Kaneki had ever heard. It was, perhaps, worse than Mutsuki's wailing. It sounded like a mix between a chuckle and a scream. "Of course I tried to run. Who wouldn't run? He was holding a knife. I thought I could run. But he caught me. And I couldn't move. I was too scared to move. He…" Mutsuki took a breath, and it was so tremulous and reedy. Kaneki wanted to tell him he could stop, but he couldn't speak. "He had the knife to my throat. Told me to stay still. I couldn't have moved, I know that, but…"

"It wasn't your fault," Kaneki tried to assure him, his voice hoarse but firm.

Mutsuki stared at him vacantly.

"You are going to take the next part the wrong way," Mutsuki stated. His voice was level now in a way it could not have been before, like he had regained a sense of peace by recalling who he was and where he was and what was happening here and now. "I want you to understand something. This… this isn't an excuse or a trigger for my gender. I was living as a boy long before this happened to me, and I don't want you to think that I decided to up and change my entire life because I got assaulted."

Kaneki wanted to jump to his feet. He wanted to shout at something, at someone, to take Goumasa Tokage and throw him off the highest building he could fucking find. And he knew it was Goumasa Tokage. Who else could it have been but that creep?

An echo of his cracking finger rung in Kaneki's brain.

"First of all, I would not assume that," Kaneki said in the calmest voice he could manage. "Second of all, he assaulted you and he got away with it?"

Mutsuki paused. He sat up suddenly. "I wasn't raped," he clarified quickly, his face flushing. He looked ashamed and sad. "I… I understand how this all sounds, but that wasn't it. I guess it's just… how it happened. It was all so messy, I… I never want to feel like that again."

Kaneki couldn't even find it in himself to be able to relax. There was no reason to relax. He was still fucking pissed, but he couldn't let Mutsuki sense his bloodlust.

"Can you explain what happened?"

Mutsuki sighed deeply, tiredly, his whole body sinking as the sigh ascended. "This instructor… he likes to hurt living things. He just takes a lot of joy out of it. I think he was just trying to scare me, because I was like any other boy at the junior academy to him. I don't really remember anything he said. It's a blur now. All I know is that he ripped open my shirt, and when he saw my binder he flipped out."

"And then he hurt you?"

Mutsuki looked at him. His dull eyes were swollen husks inside his skull.

"No," he said in a small, rueful tone. "He let me go."

Kaneki blinked rapidly. That was unexpected. He was starting to rethink the entire murder plot that was going on in his head. Well, the murder part.

There was something really satisfying about imagining sticking Goumasa Tokage's hand into a meat grinder.

"Oh," Kaneki said faintly.

Mutsuki was small, his body a blot against the yawning shadow of the room. He plucked at a thread loose on the cushion of his chair absently.

"I thought that it was over," he continued somberly. "I wanted it to be over, so I pretended like it never happened. Um… I… I didn't report it. I should have, but it scared me too bad. I'm stupid, Kaneki. I've been stupid for as long as I can remember, and I never learn. The instructor confronted me— that was inevitable, I guess. He told me that he'd spread a rumor about me being a girl if I ever told anyone anything about him. That scared me way more than any threat did." Mutsuki swallowed thickly, and he looked away. "I… I… I don't know if I want to say any more."

"Mutsuki…"

Kaneki wanted to tell him that it was okay. That he didn't have to tell.

But Kaneki needed to know what Goumasa had done.

He tried to convey that in his stare, a pleading look that bore deep into Mutsuki's eyes.

The boy covered his eyes.

"He wanted someone to cut," he blurted. "That's all he wanted from me. Just someone to carve up. And I let him."

Kaneki thought about the file. About all the incident reports. About the final one.

Mutsuki Tooru had been blamed for Goumasa Tokage's violence toward everyone and everything, including himself, and that wasn't fucking fair.

Kaneki wanted to scream.

He held it in, but it was a chore.

"Do you care that much about what other people think," Kaneki whispered, "that you're willing to die for it?"

"I didn't think he was going to kill me," Mutsuki gasped, "until the last time. Until he made me count backwards from a thousand. Because— because he wasn't an idiot, he knew he couldn't get away with it for long if I was too messed up, so he only ever cut me once and then left me alone for a month or two. This didn't happen that many times, but towards the end it got so frequent, and once it happened twice in one week, and— and Kaneki, what was I supposed to do? Nobody was going to help me! Nobody was going to take my side! The CCG covers up every terrible thing that man does, because they don't want that bad reputation, so they let me take all the blame!" He was shaking and almost… angry now. He gripped the armrests of his chair, tears filling up his eyes. "I didn't know it would get as bad as it did, but I couldn't stop it either. I was completely powerless, and it was so awful, and I never want to feel that way ever again!"

Kaneki covered his mouth with his hands.

Mutsuki's eyes were teary, and his lip trembled, but he held back those tears and squared his shoulders. He looked more determined than Kaneki had ever seen him before.

There was a spark of life in his eyes again.

Perhaps all he'd really needed was someone to listen to him. To believe him. To take his side.

That did not change the fact that Kaneki was going find a way to destroy Goumasa Tokage, though.

* * *

"What the hell is your damage now, bro?"

She'd returned to their room after providing Tatara with the info regarding Rize to find Ayato on his side, curled up on his mat and scowling at the wall.

"None of your fucking business," he snapped.

"Fine." She climbed over him until she reached her futon. She had yet another mission tonight, and this time she had to be stealthy and careful. She had immediately informed Tatara that he'd gotten the wrong girl for the job, but he basically told her to suck it up and leave.

As she got settled on her futon, she noticed at Ayato was staring at her. She glanced at him sharply.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" she asked sharply, her voice clapping against the concrete floor and bouncing off the barren, patchy walls. "You clearly are troubled by _something_ , and I can't exactly help if you just scowl and glare all the time."

"It's nothing you can help with," he scoffed, rolling onto his back and glowering at the ceiling. "It's my problem. I have to figure out how to fix it."

"Well maybe if you told me," Touka offered, "I could offer some advice?"

"Why the fuck would I want your advice?"

She didn't know why she even bothered sometimes.

"Whatever," she declared loudly, viciously, her shoulders tensing as he shot her a look. A _look_. It should have been meaningful and direct, but she felt like he was glaring right through her. How fucking sad was it, really, that they had grown so far apart? They'd moved in different circles for so long that now that they had returned to each other's orbit they were crashing into each other and dragging the other into the abyss. Touka had wanted nothing more than to fade into obscurity. To be a normal kid with a normal life and normal friends. She'd wanted to be human so bad, and now she'd ruined her dream. She couldn't pretend anymore. She'd abandoned that dream. She'd buried it once she'd decided not to even tell Yoriko that she was leaving. Why had she done that? Was it because she'd feared that seeing her friend would cause her to waver?

Maybe.

But Ayato's dream was so much more complex. He wanted humans to suffer, but he wasn't particularly fond of causing them excessive pain. He was clean in his killing, precise and swift. He didn't torture anyone. He had the capacity for mercy, even when he was being swallowed by the cruelty of his heart.

What more did he want, though? Touka was certain that this could not be it.

"Why did you leave Anteiku?" she asked suddenly.

He bolted upright.

His eyes were so shocked and dismayed. And then they were furious.

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" he spat. "You know I hated that place!"

"Why?" She frowned at him, and she folded her arms across her chest. "I still don't get it. Like, we had a good thing going. We had a home. People who cared if we were dead or not. Why did you hate that so much?"

"That old man didn't care about us!" Ayato's face was contorted in rage, his voice heightening sharply. Touka noted how it cracked, and she was reminded that he was still so young and naïve. But then, she wasn't that much older or wiser. "He just didn't want trouble in his precious fucking ward. Man, all he wanted was to control us!"

"That's because we _needed_ controlling!" Touka scowled at him, and she took a deep breath. No. She was older. She had to be the level headed one here. "Ayato. Listen to me, okay? There is nothing wrong with wanting peace."

"Bullshit."

"Mr. Yoshimura is old," Touka informed him with a twinge of irritability in her voice, "and he's _tired_. All he's ever done, as far as I can tell, is help ghouls who can't help themselves. He gives shitty, messy ghouls like me and you a second chance. I took that chance. I was happy."

"Then why are you _here_?!" Ayato cried, leaping to his feet. "Go home! Go back to your happily ever after! I don't want it! I don't need it!"

Touka's throat felt suddenly tight, and she couldn't fathom why, but it made her whole chest constrict.

"I'm sorry," she spat at him, her voice wavering, "I didn't realize you hated being happy. My fucking mistake."

"You don't get it," Ayato hissed. "You— _you_ —!" He whirled away, scooping up his coat from the floor and stuffing it on. He snatched his boots as well, and Touka sat, her hands shaking in her lap, her chest feeling hollow, and her throat feeling tight.

"Why don't you just _explain_?" she gasped. "Ayato, I don't want to fight! I just want to know why Anteiku bothered you so damn much!"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"Oh my god!" Touka jumped up and marched up to him. She grabbed him by the arm, and he shouted in objection.

"Let go!"

"No!"

He kicked her in the shin, and she gasped and buckled, pain shuddering through her. But she did not release him.

"I don't need some fancy reason to hate something!" Ayato twisted and squirmed, his other arm flashing. She managed to snatch it from the air before he backhanded her. "I'm not you! I don't have all these cushy fucking feelings I gotta keep bottled up! God, Touka, let me go!"

"I want to know!"

"There's nothing to tell!"

She shoved him as hard as she could, and it seemed he had not been prepared for that. He went crashing onto his back, sliding across the floor and wincing.

"Liar," she spat at him. "You think I buy that bullshit? You think I can accept that you're some cold, heartless person now, just because you've been hanging with the ghoul equivalent of the mob? Bro, you need to get a grip. I may not know you that well anymore, but I'll tell you what I've learned in my life so far." She strode up to him, watching as he sat up and bared his teeth at her. It looked like a pretty threat. "People only change superficially. They make their outsides reflect what they want to be inside, but at their core they never change. It's like time against a monument. Seasons go by, weather wears down the stone, but it still stands. You don't get to be any damn different just because you think feeling nothing will make what happened to us hurt any less."

Ayato pushed himself to his feet. He stared at her, and the fury behind that stare was enough. Enough for her to assume that she'd pegged him right, and that he didn't know how to respond to that. So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

Glare and run away.

They weren't all that different.

"You don't know anything," he hissed.

"No," she agreed somberly, "but at least I can say I know you."

She watched his eyes go big and wide, and for a moment he looked so much like a child again that it made her falter. And then he shoved past her, his feet stomping as he left the room, and she was left wondering if she was wrong. She had no reason to believe she was right. She just wanted to make him talk.

But it was such a pretty though, wasn't it? To even pretend like she knew her little brother.

She went back to her futon, flopped onto her side, and buried her face in her pillow.

What a fucking mess she's made.

She didn't know where he went, and she didn't know if she wanted to know, but she was so sick of this divide between them. And she was only making it worse by picking at old scabs and teasing old wounds. They were both healing, and it had been _working_ , right? They'd been pretty civil, as far as the Kirishima siblings went, but now she was just fucking up all over again.

What was it about her that pushed everyone away?

Touka fell asleep. She hadn't even meant to, but she napped away half the day, and dreamt of a cold place where only memories go.

She and Ayato were pulling worms out of the snow.

"Eat it," she said, pushing the squirming creature into his face.

"Ahhh!" He fell over, face first, into the snow. "Daddy! Daddy! Make Touka stop!"

"Wimp," she muttered.

"Touka." A man with a warm, weary face and soft hands took her wrist. "Be nice to your brother."

In hindsight, he was so young. He must have been. Ghouls didn't live so long in this world. So he was young, and he was sad, and he was lonely. In the dream, he held her in his arms and cried in her hair, and she couldn't tell now if that was just a dream or if it was a long faded memory.

And then he was gone, and she was dropped into the snow, sinking and blinking and trembling. And then she was screaming. Because she didn't want to be alone. And oh, where had Ayato gone? Oh, where was north and where was south? She felt like she'd been abandoned here. So she kept screaming.

And then a hulking shadow drew over her. The snow before her trembling hands sank.

A large hand touched her head.

"Your screaming isn't going to help anyone," the hulking man muttered. His face was long and delicate, weary and sad. He looked familiar in this dream, like a mirror in a funhouse. "I guess I can't blame you, though. We all want to scream and cry and hurt things when we know what we have lost."

"I want to watch the whole world burn," she gasped.

He looked down at her. His eyes reflected a whole world of sorrows that she had not yet lived, but she felt she was going to.

"That feeling you are feeling," he said, "is called loss. You want to destroy everything. You hate everything. Because everything has let you down. But don't let yourself be consumed by it."

"Why not?" she snapped. "Everything deserves to rot!"

"Because," he said somberly, "then you are no better than the things you hate."

And then Yomo offered his hand.

"Come with me," he said.

So she took his hand.

And along they went.

Until she woke up and realized she was all alone again.

When she finally got up, the room was dark, and she had to fumble for her throw away phone to give her some light. She thought about Kaneki and Hide, and found herself wondering what another life would have brought them. Maybe they could have all been friends.

When they asked what would make her happy, she never would have imagined it would be that.

Touka pulled on her boots and her coat, snatching her mask up and running her hand over the enameled stars. It was such a pretty thing. It didn't seem to suit her all that well, though. Maybe it was too elegant, or too pretentious. Maybe it was both.

She pulled the mask on and walked slowly to the meeting room. It was probably best to get this mission over with, steal what she needed to steal, and then hope for the best. Hope for Kaneki. Because it had been his dumb idea to tell the truth to Aogiri.

And now they were going to know about his existence.

What was he even thinking?

"Yo," Touka said, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she strode up to Tatara. "I'm here. I'll be heading out now."

"Wait just a moment." Tatara stood. Touka blinked at him. Shit. What was happening now? Oh shit. He turned, and he whispered something to Noro. Suddenly Noro was walking, a brisk pace that blew a breeze past Touka and caused her to shudder. There was something so _eerie_ about that guy, and Touka personally did not want to get close enough to find out what it was.

"Uh…" Touka glanced back at Noro. "Okay?"

"Follow Noro." Tatara eyed her in his usual vacant look, like she was a piece of scrap metal that he couldn't decide was useful or not.

Touka sighed. "Sir, yes, sir," she said dryly, whirling around and following Noro out the door.

What fun. A mission with Noro. Yay.

"So," she said as they made their way through the small, self-contained forest on the edge of the warehouse. It gave way to a park. They were walking along a path and toward a cluster of buildings. "Noro. What's your deal?"

Noro did not respond.

They moved on, and Touka merely stared at them. So fucking strange.

There was no more talk as they snuck through the city. Noro suddenly was bouncing from the street to the buildings, breezing along the rooftops and maneuvering along gates, and Touka had difficulty catching up even with her speed. It was incredible. This ghoul was unreal. She felt like she was following a ghost.

They neared the hospital, and as they did so, they kept to the streets. Suddenly Noro stopped, and Touka nearly ran right into them. She skidded out of the way and peered at them through the eyeholes of her mask.

"What are you doing?" she asked, facing them fully and jerking an arm in the general direction of the hospital. "We aren't there yet! Why did you stop?"

A small giggle froze the blood in her veins. There was fabric rustling somewhere, a haunting sound, like hearing footsteps on the stairs in the dead of night when you know you're all alone. Touka exhaled, watching her breath mist against the cool night air, and she turned around very slowly. Standing barely a meter behind her was Eto in all her tiny, slippery glory.

"Good morning," the waif chirped.

"Hi." Touka studied them, not really knowing if she should say anything more. Eto was another one that was so utterly strange and unreal. But Eto was different than Noro. Eto spoke. Eto crept. Eto seemed to _know_. "Is it morning?"

"One-oh-four to be precise." Eto turned away and began walking. Touka followed obediently, and Noro followed her sluggishly. "Tatara informed me of your mission. Sneak in, steal the file, sneak out. But, Touka, you should know. This is a hospital. There are _always_ people in hospitals."

Touka stopped short. She hadn't even thought of that. She'd never been to a hospital before, so really she couldn't be blamed, could she? Ah. Fuck.

"What do we do?" she blurted, staring at Eto desperately.

Eto laughed. She reached out and snatched Touka's hand. "Luckily for you," the tiny ghoul sang, "I have a plan."

Touka didn't know if she liked the sound of that, but she knew she had to play along.

They ended up in a public bathroom. Eto shoved some things in Touka's arms and pushed her into a stall. "Come out and let me get a look at you!"

Touka stood, blinking at the hospital scrubs in her arms. For real? She did not look old enough to be a nurse. Holy shit. But she didn't think she had any other options, so she stripped down to her socks and pulled the scrubs on. She took off her mask and substituted it for a long black wig and glasses.

"Um," Touka said, stepping out of the stall. "I'm not sure this is going to work."

Eto poked her head out of the stall beside Touka. She was not wearing anything. Her bandages were unraveling around her breasts, and Touka blinked. She turned around politely.

"Oh, don't turn around, silly!" Eto walked out of the stall unabashed, taking Touka by the arm and peering up at her face. Touka was forced to really look at her, and she was surprised to see that she… wasn't as young as she had assumed. In fact, she looked older than Touka— a very beautiful young woman with alert, hungry eyes and a soft face. Her hair was a muted, minty green color, and it hung like a lion's mane around her delicate face. Ruffled and unkempt, Eto looked like nothing to be admired, but Touka couldn't help but feel envious. This woman seemed anything but put together, and yet she radiated an aura of _knowing_. Knowing what? Touka wanted to find out.

"You seem flustered." Eto took her face and turned it from side to side. "I don't mind. You can stare."

"Why would I want to?" Touka asked the woman coolly.

Eto's smile was bright and electric. "You're curious," she cooed. "Who am I? That's what you're thinking right now. Who is this ghoul, and what is she planning?" Eto hummed, and she dragged her fingers away from Touka's skin. The place where they'd lingered seemed to burn, like her touch was acidic. "Would you like to know a secret?"

"Only if you're willing to share," Touka said cautiously.

Eto turned, and Touka watched her shed the last of the bandages, her slender body eerily free of blemishes against the grimy tile walls. It made Touka self-conscious to look at her. It was hard to tell if she was beautiful because her body appeared to be perfect, of if her body appeared to be perfect because she was so irrationally comfortable with showing it off. Either way, Touka was not particularly fond of this whole ordeal, and did not want to stare at this naked woman any longer.

Eto looked over her shoulder at Touka, resting her chin against it and smiling her eerie, cheery grin. "My first impression of you was just the same," she said frankly. And then she began pulling on clothes.

Touka stood uncertainly, digesting those words and trying to find the hidden meaning behind them. Did that mean Eto suspected Touka of something? That wasn't good.

"First impressions are deceiving," Touka said, turning away from her and walking towards the mirror. "I thought you were a child. A very creepy child."

"You think I'm creepy?" The ghoul laughed, and it was such a cheerful, eerie thing. It tinkled like bells. Or like the toll of a church after the king has died.

"I've met creepier," Touka admitted.

"Well!" Eto scoffed. "How reassuring! I'm not _as_ creepy as some of those other folks you know!"

Touka sighed. She looked at her reflection, and she frowned. Very slowly, she pulled the wig into a loose ponytail and tossed it over her shoulder.

She looked like Rize.

Fucking gross.

Touka choked on a shout as Eto's arms slung around her shoulders loosely, her cheek bumping up against Touka's. In the mirror, the woman looked younger, sort of babyish and small. She'd thrown her hair up in a messy bun, and was wearing joggers and a loose sweatshirt with a UFO and something in English on it.

"Think you can make it in and out without alerting anyone?" Eto whispered. She dangled an ID card in front of Touka's face. It had a picture of a nurse on it. Long black hair. Glasses.

"Sure." Touka tugged the ID from her slender fingers and shrugged her off. "Now be real with me, Eto. What's the plan?"

Eto blinked at Touka innocently, her hands hooking behind her back. "Wait for me in the bathroom once you get in. I don't want people to notice you, so don't make a scene."

"Um, and how am I getting in?"

"You seem resourceful," Eto cooed, touching Touka's chin with a single finger and laughing. "Think of something."

"You overestimate me," Touka told her, clutching the ID tight in her fist. "My first instinct would be to fight whoever gets in my way. Try again."

Eto's brow rose beneath her fluffy bangs, and she laughed. "Just walk through the front door," she said, waving offhandedly. "Humans are dumb and trusting."

Touka couldn't really deny that.

Touka ended up walking through a side door and not a front door, but Eto had still been correct. There was no one at the front desk. Was it because it was one in the morning? Possibly. Either way, Touka took advantage of her luck and made her way to the elevator. Eto had told her to go to the fourth floor and wait in the bathroom until she arrived.

This seemed like a lot of trouble for information Touka already knew.

The halls were deserted, but even the one or two people she passed by made her anxious. Like she was going to get caught. She locked herself in the bathroom, pressing her back up against the stall and taking a deep breath. Could they really get away with this? Eto had been in completely normal clothes— how did she plan on swinging this, anyway?

Touka didn't even know how long she waited. It could have been half an hour, or it could have been five minutes. It felt like a century either way. She was fucking dying. Who the fuck thought this was a good idea? Sneaking, fine, she would do it. Spying, whatever, it was in the job description, she was a fucking spy. But undercover work? She might have some experience with acting coy and innocent, but she was too impulsive. This would never work if someone found her out.

"Ayo," said Eto's jaunty voice as the door to the bathroom opened. Touka cautiously exited the stall. Eto strolled up to her, and offered her a piece of paper between two fingers. "For your eyes only."

Touka squinted at her suspiciously. She took the paper, and she peered at it. It was just a bunch of numbers. "What is this?"

"I'm going to go distract the woman at the desk outside. You are going to get into Kamishiro Rize's digital file and print it out." Eto waved loftily, bouncing on her feet as she left. "Good luck. Also, is it really that strange to do interviews at one am? Who would've thought?"

Touka could not actually tell if this woman was joking or not. It was frightening.

Eto was gone, and Touka stood, gripping the paper and feeling that she was missing something. Like she was hardly part of this mission.

Touka waited and waited. And then she left the bathroom, her feet moving deliberately. Acting was not her strong suit, but she _had_ done this before, and as long as she could print out these papers…

She sat down at the desk. The smell of antiseptic was strong, and she was dizzy with this white on white on white aesthetic, like some higher power had taken a rag and soap and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until this place was nothing but gleaming white tile and fluorescent lighting.

Touka began with searching for past patients. She was able to access Rize's name before it asked for an access code. She put in the one Eto had given her.

Success.

Holy shit.

Could it be that easy?

Touka printed it out and exited out of everything. She had to keep being calm, but it took a lot to not just run out of the hospital right then and there. As she was walking away from the desk, she heard someone call the name on the ID badge attached to her scrubs.

"Excuse me a moment, Ms. Takatsuki— Fushikoshi! You aren't scheduled for tonight, were you called in?"

She stood, frozen, her papers clutched in her fist. What did she do? If this person knew the woman she was impersonating… then she would never be able to match voices. This was a disaster.

"Oh my, is that a real burn victim?" Eto's voice drifted away, growing farther and farther as the sound of jaunty footsteps rushed in Touka's ears. "Can I take a picture?"

"Wha—? Shit! Ms. Takatsuki!" Touka listened to the hurried, frantic steps, and once she felt it was clear to do so, she ran. She fled the hospital, her breaths short and painful. She bumped right into Noro, who had been waiting outside the hospital for them.

"God!" Touka shoved the papers at them, and she removed the glasses to rub her eyes. "I'm never going undercover again!"

It was probably a lie, but right now she could live with that on her spotless fucking conscience.

Noro tilted their head. Touka took that as a question.

"I don't know what she's doing, okay?" She huffed, and a puff of her breath spiraled outwards. "Damn. What did she even do?"

Noro said nothing. Did nothing.

God fucking damn.

Noro and Touka hung out on a bench until Eto strolled out, looking all too pleased with herself.

"Let me see the papers," she said.

"No greeting?" Touka scowled as Noro handed over the papers. "No thanks? No explanation?"

"Do you want praise?" Eto cocked her head, her fluffy hair slipping against her cheek. Her eyes narrowed in a delighted, but gluttonous sort of way. "Prove to me you deserve it."

"Why?"

Eto blinked. She looked at Touka curiously.

"Why prove you're worth anything?" Eto shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I want you to be."

"I know what I'm worth, thanks," Touka said coldly.

"Well I _don't_." Eto's laughter was so awful and hypnotizing. A giggle from a dream, a tune from a hymn. A nursery rhyme that had gone sour. That was what she was.

A fairy tale with no happily ever after.

"Let's see…" Eto scanned the documents quicker than Touka had ever seen anyone read, flipping through them in less than a minute. "Dead on arrival… metal beams? Ha. That wouldn't kill a ghoul like that on arrival. Who do they think they're fooling? Well—!" She paused. She had read something. She blinked at it with widening eyes.

Touka already knew what she'd read.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

Eto looked up. She folded the papers and tucked them into the pocket of her sweatshirt.

"It's nothing," Eto said airily.

Touka's heart sank as Eto turned her back on her and hummed a jaunty little tune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> parumper [adv].  
> for a little while.  
> just for a moment.


	23. dedo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this chap like a month ago and i'm just like. ok. whatever. i can write this fic w/o keeping up with :re. it won't be happy, and it might not even be very good by the end, but at the very least i'll be trying. i'm not happy with tg right now, but i'm determined to see this fic through to the end.
> 
> anyway, enjoy.

"Oh, man!" Shirazu Ginshi, despite having a plethora of stuff, only had about three boxes. He held onto two, while Mutsuki carried the third. Kaneki had his duffel bag. "This place is _tight_!"

The apartment, which Mutsuki and Kaneki had moved into a few days earlier, was rather spacious and minimalistic. Kaneki liked it this way, even though he was perfectly aware it was because neither of them actually owned much.

"I'm glad you think so," Kaneki said. It was possibly the most adult living arrangement he'd ever live in. There were multiple bedrooms. Three, if the closet-like space Kaneki had claimed (much to Mutsuki's dismay) counted. The kitchen and the living room were not combined. There was a tub and shower combo. So adult. "Mutsuki, could you help him unpack? I still have a bunch of stuff to get for the party."

"Sure." Mutsuki smiled at Kaneki reassuringly. He'd been better the past few days. Not totally okay, but significantly cheerier than how he'd been before. Kaneki figured it had to be because he'd talked to someone. He didn't think that was an end all-cure all sort of thing, but he had to admit. It did work wonders. Mutsuki seemed more open now, and much more willing to get comfortable around Kaneki. They'd been living together for a while now, and it had taken so long for him to just… not be on guard. It was a testament to how badly the boy had been fucked with.

"Oh, right." Shirazu set his boxes down and stretched his arms above his head. "Right. House warming party. Nearly forgot."

"It's really not that many people," Kaneki said. "I don't know enough people for it to be a real party. But I thought it'd be nice. Maybe make this place feel a little more lived in."

"Tomorrow we'll find mysterious stains in the rug," Mutsuki piped up, "and never figure out what it's from even after we move out."

"Spooky!" Shirazu gasped, looking delighted again. "What if it was bloodstains? I'd be freaked!"

Mutsuki's eyebrows rose, and Kaneki offered a laugh. "Okay," he said, "your imagination is stretching a little too far. _Hopefully_ no one is going to die in the living room tonight."

"Listen," Shirazu said, with a faux seriousness to his voice, "ya never know!"

"That's true enough," Kaneki said. He set Shirazu's bag down beside the boxes. "Well, I'm off to get food. Do you guys need anything specific?"

"Chocolate chip cookies," Shirazu said firmly.

Kaneki didn't know what he'd been expecting. "How about like, essentials? Things we're missing?"

"Everything?" Mutsuki offered dully.

"Wow, that was pretty sassy," Kaneki remarked. "Put 'tude away, little man."

Mutsuki looked rather terrified, and Kaneki quickly waved his hands. "That was a joke!" he gasped. "Please, drag me through the dirt, I deserve it. I feel like I've been starving you."

"It's not starving if there's poptarts," Mutsuki said weakly.

"Yo, that's true," Shirazu agreed. "Poptarts and instant ramen saved my life."

"That's disgusting and sad," Kaneki said softly. "I'm going to cook for you guys from now on, okay?"

"That isn't really necessary," Mutsuki gasped. He was still holding Shirazu's box for some reason.

"I know how to cook, even if I can't taste it," Kaneki reassured him. Shirazu looked confused. And then his eyes widened. It was likely he was only just remembering.

"Oh, right," Shirazu said quietly. "You can't… eat stuff. Man, that's rough."

The first thing Kaneki had done once Shirazu had agreed to live with them was warn him.

Nobody deserved to live with a monster. At the very least not without their knowledge and consent.

"It's okay." Kaneki smiled at Shirazu. "I've gotten used to it."

He didn't miss the way Mutsuki looked at him. Lest he forget his monumental fuck up at the ghoul restaurant.

The worst part was that he still wanted more, more, more.

Wasn't that so unsightly?

"Okay, if that's all…" Kaneki turned away from them. His stomach growled, and he thought perhaps one of them might hear that ugly sound if he stuck around. "I'll see you two soon. Don't throw any wild ragers while I'm gone."

Shirazu snorted. "Oh man," he gasped, throwing his arms out and clutching his fists before him. "Shit! You caught us! Quick, Mutsuki, hide the booze!"

"Ahh…" Mutsuki laughed nervously. "R-right. I'll definitely go do that. Right now." He inched toward Shirazu's room, the boxes firmly in hand. "Here I go. Hiding the alcohol."

Shirazu and Kaneki watched him disappear.

"That was kinda pathetic," Shirazu admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You're in good hands," Kaneki said encouragingly, clapping Shirazu on the shoulder. "I'm trusting he's in good hands as well."

"Don't worry!" Shirazu jolted upright, a big grin stretching on his lips. His eyes had lit up so brightly that they seemed to gleam and sparkle. "I definitely won't let you down, man!"

Kaneki couldn't help but smile at him fondly. Even though he had a feeling things were going to get complicated and messy as a result of having Shirazu around. The thing was, Mutsuki knew most of Kaneki's secrets. What _hadn't_ Kaneki told him, aside from the entire life Kaneki had lived in another timeline? Oh, well. The time travel bit. But Kaneki didn't plan on telling anyone about that. No one would believe it.

Except like, _maybe_ Hide. But Kaneki was not going to test it out just to see, that was fucking crazy.

It was fucking crazy that he'd made it this far. That he'd died. That he'd gone back in time.

He didn't want to question it. People didn't count their miracles. They just thanked the universe for providing them.

It was going to be tough, and probably awkward, and even maybe a little dangerous. Mutsuki knew Touka. He knew that Kaneki had binged on live ghouls. He could be trusted, regardless, and that was really important right now. But Shirazu was new, and even though Kaneki got a lot of good vibes from him, there was no telling what he would do if he learned half the truths that Kaneki was hiding.

Shirazu Ginshi could easily wreck everything.

But it was either this, or Kaneki had zero control over where he went or what he did. He'd be shipped off somewhere else—the result of Kaneki's intervention in the CCG. Someone would use this power that _he_ had brought here, and he would have no say in how it was used.

No fucking way.

It was probably stupid, and perhaps he'd regret it later, but for right now Shirazu stayed. He'd deal with the consequences when they came about.

"Good afternoon," Washuu Yoshitoki greeted brightly as Kaneki sat down across from him.

Speaking of consequences.

"Hello, sir." He bit his lower lip. This was going to be super fun. Explaining. Everything.

"I'd hate to cut to the chase, but you were rather insistent on us meeting." Yoshitoki picked up a fry from the plate that he'd already had in front of him when Kaneki had arrived. "I have concerns."

"Within reason," Kaneki said, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry if I scared you. It's… not a huge deal. Um, just something we need to keep in mind as we proceed with this."

"I'm listening."

Kaneki thought about it for a moment. Touka had called him the day they'd moved in to tell him that one of the ghouls from Aogiri tree, Eto, had found out about his surgery. But she'd hid it from Touka. It was all very strange and creepy, apparently, but Touka thought it could lead to something bad. Kaneki had been prepared for this, but the knowledge that it was really happening was surreal.

Would Aogiri come after him this time?

"I'm pretty sure Aogiri knows I exist now," he admitted. Yoshitoki, whose presence was generally easygoing, became tense.

"Well, that raises some questions." Yoshitoki looked abnormally serious and tired. The atmospheric shift did not go unnoticed, and it hung above them like the whetted blade of a guillotine. "Perhaps you start from the beginning. What happened?"

"It's probably my fault," Kaneki sighed, looking away sharply. "My friend warned me. Aogiri is looking for Kamishiro Rize— you know, the Binge Eater?"

"I am aware," Yoshitoki said, his eyes narrowing. "That girl is dead."

Kaneki smiled weakly. Yoshitoki stared at him. He took a deep breath, and he dragged one hand down his face.

"Oh boy," he said, closing his eyes. "Kaneki Ken, you are a mess."

Hearing those words from someone who seemed to have a steady head on his shoulders, who was incredibly professional and put together, made Kaneki really want to melt into this booth and become a stain that some poor, underpaid worker would have to scrub out.

"Ah, yeah," Kaneki murmured, bowing his head. "You're— you're totally right. I'm the worst."

"Now I didn't say that." Yoshitoki shook his head, looking at Kaneki sharply. "Let's not go that far. How about you explain Kamishiro Rize, and why you didn't say something sooner."

"Well, to be fair, I don't have any proof she's alive." Kaneki placed his hands on the table, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "But like, Rize did not have a family. I know that, I've done enough snooping. So where did her body go? My theory is that the beams didn't kill her— ghouls are pretty hard to kill, and Rize was already really powerful. Dr. Kanou probably took her after he did his experiment on me. I think he's going to try and replicate it, if he hasn't already."

This was all stuff he knew to be true, but he had to present it as a theory because he couldn't really act like he knew anything. Sometimes this time travel thing really got to him.

"Do you have any proof to back up your theory?"

Kaneki sat and stared at the man vacantly. Yoshitoki sighed.

"Kaneki, I like you," he said, sounding genial and lofty. "Which is why I'm going to give you some tough advice. Stick to fighting ghouls. If you can't produce results as an investigator, at the very least you're a good soldier."

It should have felt like a punch in the gut, but instead it was more just like a twinge of disappointment followed by a heavy draping of resignation followed by familiar, hollowing numbness.

"Should I explain further," Kaneki offered dully, "or should I just go?"

"I'd like to know the details here," Yoshitoki said. "I'll bite. Assuming Kamishiro Rize is still alive, and being used by Kanou… well, that is a problem."

"Yep."

"We might be ahead of him, at this point, considering the quinx research and how rapidly it's expanding." Yoshitoki cupped his chin thoughtfully. "But if Aogiri finds Kanou, well, that could be potentially problematic. No offense, but I'd rather not see any more half ghouls get created."

"You should have thought of that before you authorized the quinx project," Kaneki pointed out in a voice that was not so kind, and rather biting.

"As far as we have observed, it's still completely safe," Yoshitoki pointed out. "Your surgery, and therefore Kanou's experimentation, is not. He cannot be allowed to create more suffering."

"It's way too late for that, sir," Kaneki told him coolly. "You don't get a say in when or how this suffering ends. It may not end as long as he lives. Or as long as I live."

"Now you're just being unfair to yourself." Yoshitoki searched his face, his brow furrowing. The lines of his face became more prominent, and Kaneki realized he was really worried, which was a strange thought. He was being candid in showing his emotions here. "You said earlier that you'd been warned about this. That Aogiri might find out about you. Why did you let it happen?"

"Because we will never get any information if our informant passively observes the inner workings of the organization, and never proves she's on their side." Kaneki looked into Yoshitoki's eyes, and he matched his heavy gaze. "Right now, I'm not as important as she is. If they take the bait, then they come after me. Your job is to make sure the CCG is ready for that. If they don't come after me, then they go after Kanou— that's a better option. It means we can be prepared for our paths to converge."

Yoshitoki blinked, and he leaned back. "You want an operation to commence based on taking down Kanou while simultaneously cutting down Aogiri?" He closed his eyes and began to chuckle. He covered his mouth with his hand. "That's pretty gutsy, don't you think?"

"I mean, what about this entire thing isn't gutsy?" Kaneki offered a shrug. "Look, it works or it doesn't. Either way, they know I exist. I'm not looking to pin the blame anywhere else— I let this happen. Whether or not my gambit pays off is up Aogiri's predictability."

Yoshitoki offered a laugh. "Perhaps I was wrong," he said. "There is an investigator in you yet."

Kaneki didn't respond.

The truth was, this was hard.

He felt like a cog in a machine that had stopped whirring for so long that it had fallen out of place. And now he'd been torn off track and relocated, and he was spinning so fast that he couldn't stop and he felt like he would throw off the entire clockwork.

"Before I go," Yoshitoki said, rising to his feet, "I need to ask about your decision to allow Shirazu Ginshi to move in with you."

"There is nothing to say," Kaneki replied. "He needed a home. Three people is more than enough to pay the rent on the new apartment. It seemed like the right thing to do."

"I hope you're right," Yoshitoki said. He sounded… sad. And Kaneki could not understand why.

Without another word, Yoshitoki left, and Kaneki sat and wondered where to go from here. Aogiri would find him. It would be a mess. But could it really be a repeat of last time? Kaneki was not the same person, and he did not think he could be so meek as to let himself fall into the pits of Aogiri without a fight.

Truth be told, he'd been far too nice.

If history repeated, he had a feeling he would not— could not— escape the hollowness inside him that begged to be filled.

He would kill and it would be hell.

Glorious hell.

Kaneki ended up gathering the things he needed after speaking with Yoshitoki, and then headed home. It was odd, going back to the new apartment. He felt like he wasn't really going home, which was strange and foreign. He'd left that small apartment before without issue, but… for some reason it had been harder the second time.

Perhaps he was in a better place now than he had been then?

It was nice. It was a nice thought. To feel as though you've grown some, learned some, felt some.

As though maybe pieces of his humanity, things he'd thought he'd lost in the struggle, had returned somehow.

Wishing and longing, dreams and nostalgia. Sadness as a result of happiness, happiness birthed from sadness. It was a fucked up world he lived in.

He'd accept it. Feeling something, feeling _anything_ was worth it.

"I'm back," he called, shouldering the door open as he juggled grocery bags. He hadn't made an actual meal in a very long time, especially not for more than one person. But he figured cooking was like riding a bike. Right?

"H-hey, Kaneki!" Mutsuki was sitting on the floor, his legs folded beneath him. There was a book in his lap. Normal enough. Kaneki's eyes swiveled, and he found Shirazu posing like an old roman statue in the corner.

"Did you tell him to act natural?" Kaneki asked flatly.

Mutsuki's smile was tight and thin.

"Oh boy," Kaneki muttered, kicking the door closed. "Go on, just tell me what happened. It'll be less painful that way."

Shirazu slumped, looking rather defeated, and he shuffled to the side. Kaneki saw what he'd been hiding, and he found himself at a loss for words. He was simply baffled.

"I wasn't gone that long…" Kaneki said weakly.

The coin sized hole in the wall begged to differ. He'd been gone for far too long. Next time, he should reduce his time by half. Call and check in. Maybe get a nanny.

"Um, I can explain," Shirazu gasped, throwing out his arms and waving them rapidly. "It was an accident, I swear!"

"Well, yeah, I'd hope so?" Kaneki set the bags down on the floor and walked over to inspect the damage. Holy shit. It was a real fucking hole. It looked like someone had stabbed the wall and then gutted it. The hole wasn't exceptionally big, but it was noticeable and genuinely hollowed out. Kaneki could look through it and probably see into the next room. "Damn, you guys really did a number on this wall. What did it ever do to you?"

"Are we in trouble?" Mutsuki asked nervously.

Kaneki glanced at him. He offered a small smile. "I'm not your mom, bud," he said. "I may be older than you guys, but that doesn't mean I have the authority to like, ground you or whatever. We all pay rent. We all have to fix this."

"I can do it," Shirazu gasped. "Oh my god, yeah, I know how to fix it."

Kaneki shot Shirazu a puzzled, uncertain look.

"I _swear,_ " Shirazu insisted, clapping his hand over his heart. "Hope to die and all that! I really can fix stuff— I'm real good at shit like that. Numbers and shit, nah, but if you need a handyman, I'm fuckin' baller."

"That's useful," Mutsuki piped up. "Maybe you should stick to fixing stuff and leave… killing bugs… to me?" He smiled at Shirazu sheepishly. "Maybe?"

"Man," Shirazu groaned, ruffling his unruly yellow hair. "You're right. I guess I was more scared of it than you were."

"It was just a centipede," Mutsuki sighed. He looked at Kaneki and he offered a shrug. "I don't think Shirazu even killed it."

"That motherfucker better be dead, or else I'm sleeping outside," Shirazu declared loudly. "On a bench, maybe. I will become the hobo I was meant to be!"

"Okay, kids, let's all calm down." Kaneki laughed, surprised at how excitable and energized this whole situation was. It was like having Hide here, except Hide wasn't here, and that was kinda weird. _What the hell is life gonna be like with both Shirazu and Hide in it_? Kaneki thought wildly. Probably like a fucking monsoon twenty four seven, all day, every day, nonstop. Yay? "Let's just cover up the wall. If the centipede is still here, I'll take care of it."

"Are you gonna kill it?" Shirazu asked eagerly.

"You probably don't have to…" Mutsuki said quietly.

Kaneki thought about it. A centipede. Of course. What other ugly creature could find its way into the new apartment? It couldn't be like a cute mouse or something, no. It had to be a glorified fucking worm.

"If I see it," he admitted, "I'll probably just kill it. Anyway, Mutsuki, will you help me move the couch?"

They covered up the hole, leading to a whole other set of Kaneki's thoughts, mostly concern about where this was all going. The whole quinx thing. Kaneki couldn't stop it, he couldn't control it, and he could only hope that the choices he made aligned with the CCG's plans and allowed him to continue being around these kids whose lives had been changed forever because Kaneki Ken had fucked up.

He was responsible for them. For everything that happened from here on out.

It wasn't even him being self-pitying, it was just a fact. He'd gone to the CCG. It had been his choice, his action, his fault.

"Let me help," Mutsuki said later, entering the kitchen and rolling up his sleeves. Kaneki had been chopping green onions, thinking about how disgusting it would be if he had to taste one. Even the smell was honestly revolting. He knew how to hide his discomfort though.

"You don't have to." Kaneki heard the faucet running, and he lowered his head, a smile struggling to stay hidden on his lips. "I swear I know how to cook."

"I know." Mutsuki kicked a box, which, of course, they had neglected to unpack and had kept in the corner of the kitchen because, you know, they were them. He nudged it open and produced a pan. "You know, we probably should have unpacked all of this."

"I probably should use it more often," Kaneki admitted. "I'm sorry I'm a shitty mom."

"You're not my mom," Mutsuki told Kaneki gently. He brushed past him, setting the pan gingerly on the stove, and he shot Kaneki a bright smile. "Hide is, remember?"

Kaneki suddenly burst into an unexpected fit of laughter, his knife bumping his fingers while he hadn't been looking. Luckily it couldn't hurt him, or else he'd probably have two or three less fingers. It was fine, though.

"I can't believe I'm the _dad_!" Kaneki slapped his forehead. "Holy shit. I'm going to overanalyze this for the rest of my life."

"I'm so sorry," Mutsuki squeaked, with the utmost sincerity. Kaneki looked at him, and he shook his head in disbelief.

"Let's get this dinner ready before your _mom_ shows up and complains that I don't feed you."

"Um, well, I mean…" Mutsuki winced. "You don't."

"You're not helping my case."

"It looks pretty bad, I don't know if you'll maintain custody."

"Um, I take you out for food all the time?" Kaneki frowned. "I'm a great parent?"

Mutsuki laughed.

"Wow." Kaneki set his knife down. "That really hurt, I'm really hurt. I'm going to go lie down."

"Ahh, wait!" Mutsuki gasped. "I didn't mean to laugh!"

"You did. You hate me. I see how it is." Kaneki turned away. "I'm going to go to my closet and die."

"Kaneki, stop," Mutsuki laughed, "stop, why—?"

"See?" Kaneki dropped his melodramatic attitude, which was, probably, not all that off from his usual thought process, and he laughed along with Mutsuki. "I can be light hearted like Hide!"

"You call that light hearted?" Mutsuki asked weakly.

"Um…?" Kaneki had to think about it. Wait, had it not been?

"It's okay," Mutsuki said gently. "I appreciate the gesture."

"I really am a shitty parent," Kaneki muttered, walking back to the green onions.

"I thought you said you had no authority over us," Shirazu piped up from the doorway.

"That's why I'm so shitty," Kaneki said, "obviously."

"Kaneki," Mutsuki called from across the kitchen. Kaneki didn't turn around to see, but because of the shuffling noises he assumed Mutsuki was going through the grocery bag. "You're making yakitori, right? I'll do the sauce."

"Can I do something?" Shirazu gasped.

"Uh…" Kaneki thought about the wall. "Can you clean and cut the chicken for me?"

"Um…" Shirazu looked puzzled. "Yeah, sure?"

Kaneki decidedly forbade Shirazu from the kitchen after he started wiggling the chicken breasts in front of Mutsuki, causing the boy to nearly spill the sauce all over the floor.

"He's going to feel bad about it," Mutsuki said suddenly.

"What?" They'd been silent for nearly twenty minutes. They were well on their way into cooking everything.

"Shirazu." Mutsuki leaned back against the counter, and glanced sadly at the door. "He just wanted to help. Now he's just going to feel left out."

"You think?" Kaneki understood, and he knew he'd feel left out if he were in Shirazu's position, but… Kaneki knew he and Shirazu were very different people. He couldn't imagine something like that getting to a boy so full of energy and life.

"He told me he was nervous about this." Mutsuki raised his eye to Kaneki's, and there was so much uncertainty there. It may not have been as hollow and dead as it had been a few nights ago, but he was still holding onto all his doubts, all his fears, all his insecurities. He clearly was longing for something that was out of his reach. "When we were unpacking his stuff, he said— well, he was really thankful that we offered, and that he'd try his best to be helpful and earn his place here, but… he also feels like he's intruding."

"It hasn't even been a day," Kaneki said.

"Sometimes a few hours is enough," Mutsuki sighed. "I… I get it. I felt like I was intruding for weeks after I came to live with you. Kaneki, I took your bed."

"I can't even sleep on a bed anymore," Kaneki objected. "Why would I want it? Mutsuki, you're always welcome— and so is Shirazu. So is _anyone_ who decides to get that surgery."

Mutsuki watched him wearily. The shadows beneath his eyes only seemed to deepen. He folded his arms across his chest, and averted his gaze. There was an odd sort of silence that drifted between them, a telling note that whispered to Kaneki that he'd said something wrong, wrong, wrong.

Perhaps he should pick and choose his words a little more carefully.

"Kaneki," Mutsuki said in a voice that suggest he was searching desperately for an answer for a question he could not ask, "you can't save what isn't in danger."

"You were in danger the moment I walked into the CCG," Kaneki told Mutsuki dully.

"Why are you acting like this?" Mutsuki's eye widened, as though he was shocked or dismayed, but couldn't even say why. "Nothing is wrong here! I like the way I am right now. I'm glad I got that surgery, Kaneki."

"It's caused you so much pain already," Kaneki said, "and you still defend it?"

"I'm happy," Mutsuki said firmly. "Pain— so what if being a quinx has caused me pain?" He tilted his head, almost like a curious child. "It's— it's not some foreign experience that I can't bear, or anything like that. I've been in pain in my life more than I feel like I've really lived it, and I'll be in pain again, but at the very least right now I have _something_ that makes me feel like it's worth being alive."

Kaneki felt Mutsuki's words like consecutive slaps. One blow, two blows, three blows, four.

Because yeah. He knew exactly what Mutsuki meant.

He didn't want to admit how alike they were. Because it made Kaneki realize that even if that was so, they were so, so different too.

Kaneki would never admit to anything without it being pried from his very mouth. He'd never continue to be so kind after being hurt so many times, after being _used_ so many times.

Mutsuki pushed off the counter and walked out of the kitchen without bothering to wait for Kaneki's response. Perhaps he knew that Kaneki didn't have one— or that the one Kaneki was going to give would not be worth his time to hear.

Kaneki slumped. Pain. How fucking dull. There was nothing even remotely surprising about pain. It was just a consistent thrum in the background, threading through every day seamlessly, reminding him softly that it was there, oh, it was always there.

The real shocking things in life were the happy bursts that shook the very earth he walked on. Nobody could take those away, or erase the marks they'd made on him. But they were so fast and few and far between. They were fleeting blips on a radar, a feeling that he could not get back or recreate no matter how hard he tried. It was too organic to fake or to create. It just existed.

You can't force yourself to be happy. You can't stop yourself from being sad.

Day to day to day.

Just living for the next great high.

Mutsuki wasn't wrong. It was a rare and beautiful gift, to feel happy. To be content. If that was what Mutsuki was truly feeling, even if it was temporary, it was understandable that he wanted to hold onto it.

Kaneki stuck the dinner in the oven and put the heat on low so it'd stay warm. He thought about how long it had been since he'd eaten human food. How long it had been since he'd enjoyed it. A prickle of envy prodded at his heart. If he could go back again… what would he do different?

How simple and foolish he was.

One miracle was not enough.

He wanted more, more, more.

He was so greedy and so hungry and so obsessed with his own faults.

Wasn't that so ugly?

There was suddenly chatting outside the door, and Kaneki had to wonder. He poked his head out of the room, and saw Hide claiming his territory on the couch, throwing himself onto it and kicking his feet up.

"Man, this room is kinda big," he whistled, glancing around. "I thought it'd even out with the furniture, but no, it's still big and empty."

"Get your feet off my couch," Kaneki called.

Hide slid his feet aside while maintaining the same lazy position.

"I spy a new kid," Hide said. Shirazu jumped as Hide sprung upright and offered out his hand. "Hey, there! I'm Hide, the best friend and the one who will probably end up feeding you."

"That has not happened once with Mutsuki," Kaneki informed Hide sharply. "You're a liar and an absentee parent."

"Bro," Hide scoffed, "I've got another kid from a different marriage that I gotta attend to, okay? I'm sorry, you know I love you the most."

"Yeah, okay," Kaneki said flatly.

"I was talking to Mutsuki," Hide responded curtly. "Mutsuki, my son, sit beside me. Remind me of why I left this dysfunctional relationship."

"I'm just going to go unpack the box in the kitchen," Mutsuki admitted, backing away slowly, "and not get in between your pretend fight."

"He gets his common sense from me," Hide told Kaneki with a big, fat grin.

"I mean," Kaneki snorted, rubbing the back of his head. It wasn't like Kaneki had a shred of sense to him, honestly.

"Y'all are weird," Shirazu announced. He paused to consider his own words, and he looked flustered, his cheeks burning bright red. "Ah, not in a bad way! Like, ya know, it's cool. Weird, but cool."

"Thank you," Hide said. He turned to Kaneki. "See? He thinks I'm cool."

"I'm glad someone does."

"Um, rude."

Shirazu laughed, and Kaneki smiled. Mutsuki's words echoed in his head, a reminder that he never looked deeper than the surface, and he never would notice if Shirazu was unhappy because he probably would never show it.

Perhaps they weren't all that different after all.

Amon ended up showing up exactly on time. How exceptionally predictable of Koutarou Amon. He was wearing casual clothing, which was perhaps the first Kaneki had ever seen. It was nothing special, just a nice navy overcoat and jeans. The jeans were really something though. Kaneki felt like he had to take a picture, because he'd never see Amon wearing jeans again.

"Yo!" Hide called from the couch. "Koutarou! Long time no see, man."

"I believe we saw each other last week, Nagachika." Amon casually slipped his shoes off at the door and unbuttoned his coat. There was a bag hanging from his wrist, white tissue paper overflowing from its depths. He looked around the room, his eyebrows raising in approval.

"That was so long ago, though?"

Shirazu, who had been sitting on the floor, stood up to greet Amon casually. Amon smiled at him politely, as was the Amon way.

"So the quinx project grows." Amon did not show much sign of approval aside from his smile. He did look rather encouraging though, his body language lax and his smile easy. It was the sort of smile that was kind, but firm. The smile of authority. "It's nice to meet you, Shirazu."

"Oh man," Shirazu gasped. "Nice to meet ya too! Uh…"

"Koutarou Amon."

"Right!" Shirazu snapped his fingers abruptly. "Right, that's right. Ya lecture at the junior academies! Man, people don't shut up about ya. Last time ya lectured at mine, I remember Urie Kuki couldn't stop talking about it."

"That's flattering." Amon's eyes widened with earnest surprise. "Urie… that's a familiar name."

"Ah, I don't know him that well," Shirazu laughed. "We're not friends, or anything. But I think his dad might be an investigator?"

"That would explain it."

"Oh!" Kaneki recalled the Urie he had met at the first branch not so long ago. "I met a man named Urie at headquarters. He said he had a son— wait, was that the boy who was with you when we first met, Shirazu?"

"The one and only." Shirazu offered a shrug. "He's a cool dude, but y'know. Quiet. I think he might be shy or something, because the only thing he ever gets excited about is investigating."

"Who?"

Mutsuki had decided to walk in, shooting a glance at Amon and perking up. "Amon," he gasped, bowing his head respectfully. "You ended up coming after all?"

"Was there debate?" Kaneki glanced at Amon, who set the present down gingerly on the table. He looked sheepish, his body tensing up.

"Kaneki, can I speak with you for a moment?" he asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Kaneki's stomach clenched up, knots squirming and cramping up his abdomen. Something was definitely wrong, and it surprised him. Amon wanting to talk? This could not end well. All of Kaneki's misgivings were running through his brain, and he couldn't help but think that he may have ruined something really nice just by being himself. How shitty was that?

"I need to tell you something." Amon's stare was resolute. It wasn't fiery or firm, and there was a hint of softness there that suggested that this was not an angry matter, and that maybe this would graciously end without a fight.

"Amon, wait," Mutsuki gasped, his voice wary and waning. "Now? You're telling him _now_?"

Kaneki was suddenly on high alert.

"Is there any reason I should wait?" Amon looked at Mutsuki expectantly. The boy was taken aback for a moment, his brow furrowing. But he quickly gathered himself.

"No, sir," he said carefully. "However, I thought you were adamant about not telling him."

"Things change." Amon walked briskly toward the kitchen. "I don't want to make tonight about business, but I also don't want to wait. This will weigh on my mind if I don't tell you the truth."

"That's… that's fine." Kaneki looked at Hide and Shirazu, who were watching this entire exchange with wide eyes. "You guys sit tight for a few minutes, okay?"

"Sure," Hide said. "It's chill, man, you do you."

"Shirazu, play it cool."

"I'm always cool!" Shirazu cried.

The three of them walked into the kitchen, and Mutsuki cautiously closed the door behind him. He glanced up at Amon, his expression grim.

"You said not to tell," he said in a heavy, exhausted voice, "and I _haven't_. But I'd like to know why you didn't want me to tell, and why exactly now is the best time to say something."

"Keeping secrets?" Kaneki raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Amon, I didn't think you had the gall. I feel so betrayed."

"Go ahead, get the sarcasm out," Amon said dully. "Does that make you feel better?"

"A bit, yeah."

"Good."

He seemed to be absolutely genuine, as though he'd grown tired of Kaneki's attitude but decided to just let it pass like a child's tantrum. Kaneki had to think for a moment about what he was doing with his life before he continued.

"So what have you guys been hiding from me?" Kaneki smiled at them, trying to show them that he actually didn't care that much even though the sting of betrayal had begun to settle. He was hurt, but only minutely. Like a finger prick or a brush burn.

Mutsuki eyed Amon, caution clear in the way he stood, his shoulders tense and his fingers stretching toward the hem of his sweater. He looked like he didn't want to be here— and Kaneki recognized his discomfort, the struggle in his expression, the suggestion that he wanted to vacate his body.

He sighed deeply, and wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach, as though he was about to be sick. "I found evidence to suggest Dr. Kanou was involved with the disappearances of the Yasuhisa twins," he said.

Kaneki blinked rapidly. Well. He already knew Kanou had been responsible. But they didn't know he knew. How fucking complicated was this? How was he supposed to act? How would he have acted if he had not known?

Probably impulsively. Panicky. Oh no, how awful, those two girls were gonna end up suffering just like him, oh no, oh no, oh no. How fucking awful.

Would that melodrama suffice?

Kaneki stood quietly, puzzling over all this, while Amon studied him. Mutsuki refused to meet his eye, his shame palpable. It was sweet that he felt so bad about keeping this from Kaneki. Kaneki kept so much from him, even now after their heart to heart.

"Oh." He looked at Amon expectantly. "I guess I get why you decided to hide that from me."

"Are you angry?"

"No." Kaneki really did understand, now that he heard it. Amon had assumed, rightfully, that Kaneki would have reacted badly to the idea of Kanou taking two girls to experiment on. He just couldn't have accounted for the time travel bit. That wasn't his fault. "I'm… kinda pissed off, but that has nothing to do with you." He paused to think about Kuro and Shiro, how blinded and foolish they had been. How disgustingly loyal they'd been to Kanou, how they'd shed their humanity without a second thought. It filled him with a sudden and burning hatred that made his whole chest seize. "I should have killed Kanou when I had the chance."

"Kaneki," Amon said sharply, shock dripping in his voice, causing Kaneki to remember himself.

He glanced at Mutsuki. The boy looked utterly unsurprised. In fact, he didn't even look disappointed. He just looked at Kaneki blankly.

That hurt more than anger or shock or disgust or sadness.

Kaneki took a deep breath, and he glared at the opposite wall. "Part of me wants to apologize," he admitted, his voice clipped and emotionless. It called back that old, hollow part of him that tore apart ghouls limb from limb, devoured their flesh, and lied with an easy smile about being the culprit. "But why the fuck should I? Kanou is a monster. The world would be better off without him."

"Killing him would be murder, Kaneki," Amon snapped.

_Don't make me a killer!_

His own voice, small and desperate, split through his mind like a thunder clap.

He exhaled shakily, his body seizing at the thought. Murderer, murderer, murderer! Was he not already a cold blooded killer? A cannibal? He ate and ate and ate, killed and killed and killed. His conscience was so muddied that he could not see the difference anymore— ghoul and human, human and ghoul, it was all the fucking same!

So why did he feel so fucking bad?

"Amon," Mutsuki said, his voice level and firm. "Tell us why you felt the sudden need to tell Kaneki this. Obviously that's what's been troubling you, right? Did you find something?"

Amon had to have known Mutsuki was trying to change the subject as fast as possible so Kaneki might feel at ease. But he took the bait anyway.

"I did." He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. "It… doesn't look great. Kanou seems to be collecting people to experiment on— only, it's come to my attention that he can't experiment on humans without having a ghoul to farm kakuhou out of."

Kaneki understood now why he'd been so nervous about all this.

"Rize," he hissed.

Amon looked at Kaneki remorsefully, his expression straining with guilt. Kaneki wished he'd just stop. Why was he so guilty about all this? This was stuff Kaneki _already knew_! But he couldn't say so. Because that would be so suspicious, and it wasn't like he could blurt out the truth. That he'd cut off Amon's arm once and then gotten his eyes stabbed out by Arima Kishou. That he'd died. Literally just dropped fucking dead. That he'd gotten a second chance, because god knew he _deserved_ one, right?

"What?" Mutsuki asked, looking between them confusedly. "Rize?"

"The ghoul called Binge Eater," Amon explained. "Kaneki's kagune came from her."

"Ah…" Mutsuki blinked rapidly. "That must be strange. Knowing who your kagune came from."

Kaneki watched Mutsuki's tired face. And he felt himself beginning to cool down, his senses returning rapidly.

"It's like carrying her with me wherever I go," Kaneki said, his voice soft and hoarse. Amon looked at him sharply, hiding his horror as fast as he could. But not before Kaneki had spotted it. "It's like I can still feel her here, hear her voice. I feel haunted by her."

Mutsuki's face softened, which made him look bleary and out of focus. "I see," he said, and nothing more.

There was a quick knock at the door, and Shirazu poked his head in. "Uh, 'sup?" He smiled sheepishly, perhaps not knowing how tense things had gotten behind closed doors. "Someone's knocking. Who else did ya invite?"

"Oh." Kaneki mirrored Shirazu's smile, and he made his way out of the room. For now, they would leave this argument behind. This was supposed to be lighthearted. Kaneki supposed that was probably too much to ask. "Well, I thought we could use the company."

"Look at you, making friends," Hide cried from the couch, clasping his hands. "Kaneki! I'm so proud of you!"

"Go home," Kaneki snorted, following Shirazu to the door. He opened it, and smiled easily up at Shinohara. "Hello, sir."

"I think you can skip the formalities, Kaneki," the man laughed. "After all, I'm here as a friend."

Beside him, Suzuya shuffled their feet and glanced around the hallway in absolute disinterest. Kaneki stepped aside to allow them room to come in, and Shinohara nudged Suzuya to go first. They edged around Kaneki and made large strides into the room, their arms following the rhythm of their march. Shinohara merely smiled a fond, but sheepish smirk.

"Shinohara!" Amon stepped out of the kitchen with a small, astonished smile on his lips. "I didn't know you were coming."

"It's a new branch," Shinohara admitted. "There are a few familiar faces, of course, but I take the company I can get."

"Kaneki, why did you invite me to a CCG party?" Hide whined. "I'm just a lowly barista."

"Shinohara, this is Nagachika Hide," Kaneki said, gesturing vaguely in Hide's direction. "He's my best friend."

"Pleasure to meet you," Shinohara said, nodding at Hide politely. Hide smiled, and he sat upright. "Nagachika. That name sound familiar."

Hide continued to smile placidly. "It's a common name," he said with a shrug. "Anyways, who's the kid?"

"That would be my partner," Shinohara sighed. "Juuzou, please come out from behind the couch."

Hide jumped as Suzuya's head popped up behind him, their expression bored as they pressed their cheek against the backrest. "There's a hole back here," they said in their sweet, high pitched, almost melodious voice. Kaneki didn't know why they seemed to drag their words on and on, as though syllables had no meaning, but they did.

"Shit," Shirazu muttered.

"How did they even fit back there?" Mutsuki gasped, appearing at Kaneki's side without warning. He actually looked down sharply, alarmed that he had not noticed him. "Also… I didn't know you two were friends, Kaneki."

"Oh, have you two met?" Kaneki asked eagerly. _Excellent,_ he thought. "Suzuya! You didn't tell me you and Mutsuki met already!"

"I didn't know he lived with you." Suzuya yawned, crawling up onto the back of the couch and hanging upside-down beside Hide, who watched with an amused expression. Their shirt, which was far too big for their scrawny frame, flopped against their face to reveal their tummy. Kaneki saw nothing but porcelain skin stretched thinly against a mountain range of ribs, and an uneasy array of scars.

"Juuzou," Shinohara scolded, his voice acutely reprimanding. Suzuya rolled his body in a peculiar way, his hips turning and his legs bending over his head to the point where he looked about ready to snap in half, and yet he was still going. It was a contortionist's movement, something quick and jarring and unsettling as they dropped into a sitting position.

"That was strange," Hide remarked. Suzuya glanced at him, their murky red eyes sharp and admittedly sort of daunting. If Hide was intimidated, he didn't show it. "How'd you do that?"

"What?" Suzuya's mood changed like a coin flipping. Their eyes flashed wide, eating up whatever attention Hide was giving them and growing wider by the second.

"The leg thing, dude!" Hide tried to demonstrate by pulling his leg up as high has he could. That was about level with his hip.

Suzuya blinked. They took their foot and pulled their leg up above their head. "This?"

"Yo!" Hide dropped his leg to clap approvingly. "That's so cool! You must be really good at gymnastics!"

"Sure, I guess."

"You're good at balancing," Mutsuki pointed out. He looked small, like he hadn't wanted to speak, but was dying to say something. Suzuya glanced at him, and they laughed. It was an eerie, tinkling little laugh. The laugh of a child who got a thrill out of pulling the legs off spiders.

"You're good at being nosy," Suzuya responded to Mutsuki brightly. Mutsuki flushed, his warm brown cheeks turning very dark, and he bowed his head. Kaneki wanted to defend Mutsuki, his instinct to pull the boy away and protect him from Suzuya's unpredictable moods. But Mutsuki slowly relaxed, his shoulders slumping.

And then he looked up, his expression mild despite the blush that had crept across his face. "That's fair," he said, offering Suzuya a small smile.

Suzuya stared at him blankly, their mouth opening. They shut it and frowned.

"Yo," Shirazu said, pointing at Suzuya with a quirked brow. "How old are ya? 'Cause ya look real young."

Suzuya hummed, their head bobbing from side to side. "Yeah?" They smiled an eerie, toothy smile that suggested mirth but lacked the emotion. "How old do I look?"

Shirazu opened his mouth, and Kaneki shared a look with Shinohara. "He's Kaneki's age," Shinohara said. Suzuya huffed rather dramatically, and sunk into the couch, their limbs falling erratically as they slipped downwards. They looked like they were melting.

"Shinoharaaaa…" they whined. "I wanted shark man to _guess_!"

"What did ya just call me?" Shirazu squeaked, probably meaning to sound more intimidating, but earnestly being too shocked to hide his young voice.

Suzuya flopped onto the ground and laid on the floor without a response. They were defeated and melancholy, clearly disappointed that Shinohara had revealed their age. Mutsuki made his way to Shirazu's side and patted his shoulder reassuringly. Shirazu still looked rather irritated, his brow furrowed and his eyes flitting rapidly between Shinohara and Suzuya.

Well, this was going surprisingly well. No one was hurt or crying, so that had to be a good sign. Right?

"Thank you for inviting us," Shinohara said later as he followed Kaneki into the kitchen. Amon was already there, getting the food out of the oven without prompting. Kaneki wanted to object, but he figured Amon would just ignore him. "I'm surprised, honestly, that you came to Juuzou first. But still, I really appreciate it."

"I like Suzuya," Kaneki said, blinking up at the man earnestly. "He's a little… uh, eccentric, I guess. But I can't say I haven't met weirder."

Shinohara's expression was so alarmed and clearly touched that Kaneki found that he wanted to apologize for something and he didn't know why.

"You've got to have your hands full with this one, Shinohara," Amon said. "Was that police officer okay, in the end?"

Shinohara sighed, scratching his head thoughtfully. "Oh man," he said with a groan. "I almost forgot about that. I wouldn't call it okay, but he's not pressing charges. I don't know why, but I guess I can't second guess a miracle."

Kaneki was itching to ask, and Shinohara must have noticed because he leaned against Kaneki's counter. "Juuzou ended up getting in trouble with the police here in the twentieth ward. He might have injured an officer…?" Shinohara winced. "It's fine now."

"Tell that to the officer whose eardrum he sucked out," Amon remarked.

Kaneki's eyebrows raised. What a comic image that was.

"I'd like to know the story behind him," Kaneki admitted, glancing out the door to see if they were listening. They were not. They were tormenting Shirazu by dragging his lips back to examine his teeth. "Why did the CCG make an exception like they did for me?"

Shinohara closed his eyes. "Suzuya was… a special case," he said slowly.

"Like I was a 'special case?'" Kaneki tilted his head.

"Not quite." Shinohara stared past Kaneki, out the door and into the living room. "Suzuya has been labeled a problem child by just about everyone he comes by."

"But you don't believe that," Kaneki clarified, "do you?"

Shinohara smiled at him, a confirmation that seemed to warm his entire face. "I believe that the best way to soften up an unruly child is to give them attention and care." He offered a shrug and pushed off the counter. "Maybe Juuzou will never be happy— I can't exactly blame him for that. But if I can teach him something about being good, that'll make all of this worth it."

"Did you ever think that maybe Suzuya isn't at fault?"

"I think about it all the time." Shinohara glanced at Kaneki bemusedly. "This isn't just about Juuzou anymore."

Kaneki held up his hands weakly. "You got me." He looked at the door to make sure none of them were listening in. He spotted Mutsuki laughing happily on the floor by Hide's feet while Hide simply watched Shirazu try and beat Suzuya away. "I want to know what you two know about the second junior academy."

"Kaneki, this isn't about the twins, is it?" Amon sounded vaguely concerned. Vaguely.

"For once, no," Kaneki informed him curtly. "It has nothing to do with them. Though it's pretty fucked up that two girls could just disappear from a school setting like that, don't you think?"

"I'm not sure I follow," Shinohara said. His eyes followed Kaneki as he paced the small kitchen. "Did Juuzou tell you what academy he attended?"

"No," he said, pausing his pacing to look up at the man somberly. "When I was there I happened upon some rumors. Apparently Suzuya was known to cut up animals there."

"That's ridiculous," Shinohara immediately blurted, looking particularly offended, as though the rumors had attacked his person directly. "Suzuya loves animals."

That was actually something Kaneki had not known, but it warmed his heart to hear. "Funny thing," he said, shooting a quick glance out the door just to make sure. They were all still occupied. "The same rumor was still circulating when I got there, only Mutsuki was the one doing the cutting."

Amon scoffed at that. "Who started those rumors?" he asked sharply. "Who would even believe that? Have they seen that boy?"

"Yeah, it's all a bunch of bullshit, except literally everyone believed it." Kaneki watched the door sadly. "If you know anything about Goumasa Tokage, I'd appreciate it if you told me."

"That's… an instructor at the junior academy, isn't it?" Amon looked understandably troubled while Shinohara merely frowned. "Kaneki… I don't like where this is heading."

"That really sucks, because we're diving right in." Kaneki straightened up and marched toward Amon. "I want to know everything about this man. I want to know where he sleeps, eats, shits— I don't even care how I have to get this information. There's only one reason why I'm asking the two of you instead of pursuing this on my own."

"And why on earth is that?" Shinohara asked, sounding cautious and concerned, his brow knitted tightly together.

Kaneki looked at him with the type of gaze that could tear the planets from the night sky and hurtle them into the sun. It was cold, and it was an ever hollow presence of _wanting_ that dragged the whole world into it only to watch it all starve in the end. It was the looming mass of a black hole, waiting for the inevitable destruction of everything and everyone.

"Because you two are going to stop me from killing him."

* * *

"You know," Mutsuki said, his voice edging on suggestion, "it might be a good idea… to not… let people know you have ideations of murder."

Kaneki stiffened beside him. They were waiting to be allowed into Shirazu's room. The surgery had apparently gone without a hitch, which was relieving. Mutsuki couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as he recalled waking up alone in a startlingly white room, the glow of morning haze making everything bleary like the soft, cool film of a dream.

"Amon told me he's worried about you." Mutsuki peered at Kaneki's face desperately. "And… to be honest, I am too. Do you really want to kill Kanou?"

Kaneki exhaled sharply, and he turned his face away. Mutsuki had been avoiding bringing this up for a few days, but since the party it had been bothering him. Kaneki was scaring him, and that could only end badly. More often than not, Mutsuki found himself thumbing his quinque. He had one at the small of his back, and another strapped to the inside of his forearm.

"Does that matter?" Kaneki looked at Mutsuki sharply, and if Mutsuki looked closely he knew he'd be able to count the lines beneath his eyes.

"Um…" Mutsuki leaned back, his fingers catching the hem of his coat. "Y-yeah. Kinda?"

Whatever was going through Kaneki's mind, it couldn't be good. His eyes had gone shadowy, and his jaw had set hard. Mutsuki could hear him breathing, short and shaky breaths. Something was wrong, but Kaneki would not say, and it was only making things worse.

"I won't kill anyone, Mutsuki," he said firmly, looking toward Mutsuki with a dull gaze. "You can stop worrying."

Mutsuki didn't know how to stop worrying. The image of Kaneki in the white mask, blood dripping quick from his lips, repeated in his mind over and over. Whatever had possessed him then was not gone, merely sleeping, and that was an awful thought. How was Mutsuki supposed to feel safe when he knew that Kaneki was on the brink of a complete psychotic break?

He sat, his fingers twisting together nervously, and he watched the wall helplessly. Kaneki would not be reasoned with, not regarding this matter, and that only made it all so much worse.

Precious minutes ticked by, leaving Mutsuki anxious and afraid, the space between him and Kaneki growing farther and farther by the second. Mutsuki didn't know what was wrong, and he wanted to do something, but he knew that Kaneki wouldn't appreciate any of it. The worst part was, Mutsuki didn't blame Kaneki for thinking Kanou should die. What was concerning was that Kaneki wanted to be the one who did it.

Killing ghouls was fine, but killing humans crossed the line. Right? Wasn't that what Mutsuki had been taught?

But now he wasn't so sure.

"Hey…" Mutsuki raised his head, glancing cautiously at his friend. "Kaneki?"

Kaneki glanced back expectantly.

Mutsuki's whole body seemed to seize with anxiety. Should he even ask? Was it even worth it? What if Kaneki got mad? Oh, what had even happened here?

He took a deep breath. No. He had to be stronger than this. Kaneki _could_ be trusted, regardless of his issues with morality. He was still loyal, and he was still a friend, and Mutsuki had to stop withdrawing himself from his problems or he'd never get _anywhere_!

He took a deep breath. "What were you trying to accomplish by bringing Suzuya to the apartment?" he asked distantly.

Kaneki deigned himself to look surprised. "What do you mean?" He blinked, and he touched his chin. "I knew Suzuya already, and thought it would be—"

"Cut it out," Mutsuki sighed. "Stop all of this, Kaneki. I'm tired of whatever game you're playing. I know you know Suzuya and I were both at the second junior academy."

"So?"

Mutsuki closed his eyes, thinking back to the party and his whole heart filling up with dread.

"Boo!" Suzuya had jumped on Mutsuki sometime between Hide going home and Kaneki finally opening Amon's present. It had been a plaque with key hooks. Each of their names had been painted on. There was noticeably empty space— room for names to be added. "See, now I've got a hold of _you_!"

"Ah…" Mutsuki tried to hide his discomfort with a smile. He'd gone into another room to be by himself, ending up leaning out the window that led to their fire escape. "Y-you got me, Suzuya."

Suzuya held his shoulders for a few moments, their eerie red eyes narrowing a bit. And then they released him, still eying his face with a puzzled expression.

"W-what?" Mutsuki hugged his arms, hoping that this oddness would pass. It wasn't that he didn't like Suzuya—he didn't want to judge anyone, even if they were kind of weird and creepy. Mutsuki figured there had to be a good reason Suzuya acted like this, and he knew it wasn't fair to make assumptions.

"You're jumpy," Suzuya stated matter-of-factly. They hitched themself up onto the windowsill and sat on the fire escape with their feet dangling through the bars. It made Mutsuki nervous, so he quietly followed Suzuya, camping himself out in the corner.

"I guess I am," he admitted. "But why does that matter?"

"You probably don't even know how to use those knives," Suzuya continued as if Mutsuki hadn't even spoken. They snatched Mutsuki's hand, causing him to shout in objecting. He could feel the thread of Suzuya's stitches, the boniness of their fingers as they flipped Mutsuki's hand around slowly. "See? Your hand is so shaky. How the hell are you ever gonna kill anything with such a flimsy grip?"

"Y-you don't know that!" Mutsuki snatched his hand back, tearing it away from Suzuya and scowling. "I'm just nervous right now!"

"Nervous?" Suzuya grinned. "About what? About me?"

"No!" Mutsuki shook his head furiously. "No, don't be— why should I be nervous about you? Suzuya, if you're trying to scare me it's—it won't work."

They stared at him blankly.

Mutsuki continued, raising his chin and looking past their face. "That's right, I know what you're trying to do," he said. "You just want to see if you can scare me, because you want to make me uncomfortable. But listen, _lots_ of things make me uncomfortable. Because I know you're doing it on purpose, it sort of, um…" Mutsuki laughed, his eye meeting Suzuya's sheepishly. "It loses the effect, I guess."

"Damn," Suzuya said flatly.

"Sorry," Mutsuki said weakly.

Suzuya laughed at him, which had been troubling and nerve wracking, but eventually Mutsuki gave up and started to laugh to. And then Suzuya stopped, and looked at him, and they beamed.

"I bet you've never hurt anyone in your whole life," they laughed.

"That's… not…" Mutsuki couldn't even bring himself to be alarmed.

"Let me guess," they said brightly, "Goumasa said don't tell?"

Mutsuki froze. Suddenly, as if by some godlike fingers, he was jerked back, his shoulders and spine digging into the bars of the fire escape. He saw his breath spilling from his mouth, the early December air snatching his words from his mouth and leaving him dazed and breathless.

If that surprised them, Suzuya did not show it. They hummed to themself, plucking at a string on their wrist and looking up at the sky. It was dark, and street lights illuminated their matted white hair.

"It wasn't just Goumasa," Suzuya said. "It was the whole board. They told me not to tell. And I didn't. But then I got blamed for all those bad things. Did that happen to you, too?"

Mutsuki pulled his legs up to his chest, his throat closing up and his vision growing misty.

Suzuya continued to hum— it was a jaunty but disjointed tune, something that made no melodious sense and instead rang of dissonance. It might have been annoying if Suzuya's voice wasn't so perfectly suited to hum.

"Guess so," they said, kicking their legs up against the bars and lying down on the bitingly cold metal. Mutsuki's cheeks were stinging. His fingers were numb. But Suzuya just stared up at the sky, looking surprisingly at peace. They smiled, and it was an awful, rueful thing. "You're scared."

"No," Mutsuki had croaked.

" _Yeah_ ," they sang, sitting upright and jerking a finger in his face. "Scaredy cat!"

"Okay," Mutsuki exhaled, standing up. "That's enough. I'm going inside."

He carefully stepped around Suzuya and crouched near the window.

"If he hurt you," Suzuya called, "you should've said something."

Mutsuki gripped the wooden ledge, taking a deep breath to cool his nerves.

"To who?" he whispered. "Who would have believed me?"

A brief silence fell between them— not in the way that snow flurried against the air, but the way dominoes crashed into one another and set the whole world on a course of destruction.

"I would."

Mutsuki looked at them, searching their pallid, doll-like face for a hint of hostility. But they were not looking at Mutsuki. They were looking at the sky, the blackened stretch of space that went on and on forever. It was reflected in their murky red eyes.

"That doesn't help me."

And then their eyes flashed to his face, groggy and narrowed.

"I can," they said.

"What?" Mutsuki asked thickly, wiping his eye with his sleeve.

They sat right behind Mutsuki, looking puzzled. Perhaps they didn't even know why they'd spoken. They smiled, and they shrugged, and they laid back down.

"I can help you," they said in a soft, sing-song voice.

Mutsuki nearly fell back into the house. " _What_?"

"If you want help," they said, "you should fight me."

"That's not helping, that's just—!"

"Fight me," they said.

"I don't want to."

Suzuya laughed, and it was a spiteful little thing, spitting at the night like a curse. "Fine," they giggled, "let the whole world keep hurting you. Just thought I oughta help, but golly, it really isn't my fault if you _like_ taking a beating!"

"Shut up!" Mutsuki jumped down back into the room. "I— I'm not—!"

"You're just a big ol' scaredy cat," Suzuya sang, "scaredy cat, scaredy cat!"

"Fine!" Mutsuki snapped. "You want to fight me? Fine! Just tell me when and where!"

Suzuya laughed and laughed and laughed.

Mutsuki flushed, and he realized he must have fallen for a trick, because they swung back into the room and patted him on the shoulder.

"You really do like to get hurt," they said quietly.

Mutsuki swallowed thickly, tears burning his eyes.

"I don't want to fight you anymore," Suzuya declared. And then they walked away.

Now, Mutsuki had been mulling over this encounter for days, and he still couldn't shake it. Suzuya was known for being creepy and violent— Mutsuki knew that, and perhaps it frightened him, but he was not one to indulge in rumors. Even if these ones happened to be true. It was difficult to know what to make of Suzuya's antics. Perhaps this was their way of being friendly.

It wasn't like they'd ignored Mutsuki at work. In fact, since the party, Suzuya had greeted him enthusiastically twice, and actually fallen asleep at Mutsuki's desk at one point. Mutsuki had considered that maybe they'd wanted to talk to him, and that thought had scared him, so he'd left.

"So," Mutsuki continued, looking at Kaneki sharply. "I know it wasn't a coincidence. Suzuya and I had really similar experiences at the academy, and you wanted me to talk to them about it."

"You make it sound like I had some kind of weird gambit going on," Kaneki said flatly. "If you and Suzuya ended up getting along, I think that's really great."

"I don't know if I'd call it getting along," Mutsuki mumbled. "But we definitely talked."

Kaneki's face softened. He gently placed his hand on Mutsuki's shoulder, and he smiled. "Sometimes talking really is the best medicine," he admitted.

"If that were true," Mutsuki said, shrugging him off, "you would _say_ something."

Kaneki looked down at him, and the immense guilt crashed into him so hard that he thought he might start crying and begging and fleeing as fast as he could.

"You're right," Kaneki said.

Mutsuki shot him an incredulous glance.

"I guess I don't know how to take my own advice," he said, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Mutsuki gasped. "They're going to let us see Shirazu soon!"

"I need to go do something," he said, waving his phone. "A mutual friend of ours just texted me. But listen… when I get back, I'll talk. Okay? I know that's what you want."

Mutsuki did not voice his doubts about his sincerity, and instead smiled and nodded. "Okay, Kaneki," he said, holding back a sigh.

As Kaneki left, Mutsuki was forced to come to terms with the uncertainties that he'd been dealt. The truth was that Kaneki was far from perfect, and Mutsuki had probably gotten too attached too quickly. It wasn't fair to Kaneki, how Mutsuki had perceived him. No one was infallible, after all, and Mutsuki knew that better than anyone.

It hurt to admit that your heroes had flaws.

When Mutsuki was allowed to see Shirazu, he felt that he was relocating his sadness into a slightly less lonely setting. He watched the sun set from the window in Shirazu's room, the last light of day fading away and stretching shadows along the walls. It was an eerie grayness that blanketed the hospital bed and the uncomfortable blue chair and the polished linoleum tile. The only sound here was the steady chirping of Shirazu's heart monitor, and Mutsuki's own quiet breaths.

The room grew dark, and the city lights began to burn the skyline like a myriad of stars. Mutsuki rested his arms against the window sill, and his chin against his arms, and he watched the city come alive in slow time, the world unfolding like flower petals. Inch by inch, and then suddenly at full bloom.

He found himself thinking about Kaneki's words, and how they meant the entire world and the contents of a tin garbage can simultaneously. Kaneki was kind and he was loving, but that didn't excuse some of his behavior. It _couldn't_. Mutsuki hardly considered himself ignorant, and was quick on the uptake more often than not. The trouble though was, of course, that he kept things to himself. It was a bad flaw.

Truth be told, someone could commit a murder in front of him, and he'd probably just not tell anyone out of fear that he'd be troubling them.

He raised his head and looked back at Shirazu. The surgery had gone without a hitch, and he was recovering nicely. Mutsuki had been told that he would wake up within the hour.

"I hope you don't regret this," he told Shirazu softly. He stretched his arms out, pressing a finger to the cool window glass. Fog erupted around the tip of his index finger. He closed his eyes, and let his head fall back down against his arms. "I hope I don't regret this either."

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, he was jerking awake to the sound of distant screaming. Now, that stirred the deeply rooted anxiety that seemed to exist as half his personality, and everything in him was begging for him to run.

There was only one problem.

"Shirazu!" Mutsuki blinked around the dark room. The only sources of light here was the heart monitor's dim glow, and the distant haze of light pollution from the city outside. He let the subtle glow guide him to the wall where he found a light switch. He whirled around to face the bed, and found some relief in the sight of Shirazu's slumbering form. "Oh, thank god…"

He walked over to the bed, peering at the heart monitor for a clue as to why he'd heard screaming. Had it been Shirazu? Had it been a dream? Had it been _him_? There was no way to tell, and it was killing him, reaching inside him and prying apart his heart. He could feel it seizing, tearing, shuddering, bleeding, and it was all so much, and he was scared to so much as breathe.

"H-hey…" He held his head, feeling the cold sweat that prickled beneath his short, messy bangs. He patted Shirazu's arm reassuringly. "You're fine. L-look at that."

Shirazu didn't respond. He slept soundly, his expression easy and relaxed.

"H-hey…" Mutsuki glanced around the room worriedly. He bit his lip and sat down at the edge of Shirazu's bed. "You… you should wake up. H-hey. Shirazu?" Mutsuki didn't want to shake him awake, but he also had a really strong urge to shake him awake.

There was another scream. This time it sounded much closer, and it was so loud and panicked and _pained_ that Mutsuki jerked to his feet again, his eyes darting around the room wildly. He knew that something was happening, and everything in him was on edge, his feet shuffling as if ready to start sprinting. This, whatever it was, was really bad. He could sense the tension in the air, like the taste of electricity in the air before a terrible thunder storm.

"Crap…" Mutsuki held his head, his fingers tangling in his hair and sliding downwards until they laced behind his neck. What was he supposed to do? He didn't know the situation, so he couldn't know to barricade the door or not. What if he ended up trapping them? He glanced at Shirazu, who slept peacefully, his yellow hair loose and unruly around his cheeks.

No way. He had to keep Shirazu safe.

He was a ghoul investigator, wasn't he?

It took a lot to pluck up his courage and move. But he did it. And once he did, some of his anxiety fell away like scales being lifted.

He pulled the door open and peered out into the hall. Either way he looked, there was no one there. And hospital hallways were not exactly the warmest of places to begin with. Seeing the narrow corridor abandoned caused his nerves to shiver and snap. He took a deep breath.

Sliding the quinque from his sleeve, he stepped out into the hall. It was far too quiet, and the silence was buzzing along his arms and raising the hair on his neck. He flipped his dagger and grasped it at a reverse grip, his eyes darting from one side of the hall to the other. There was nothing, no one, not a single soul to spare him company, and the solitude made the world seem so much bigger and so much more daunting than ever before.

There was a small gust of air behind him, and he whirled around, his instincts taking over. He jerked back, but not in time to dodge the leg that came rushing into his stomach. One second there was nothing, and the next he was being kicked into the opposite wall, his breath knocked out of him and his whole body recoiling in pain. His quinque clattered by his side as he heaved deep breaths, nausea swelling within him.

"What's up, one eye?"

Mutsuki recognized the voice. He raised his head shakily, and saw that it was the young and distinctly emotionless face of Touka's brother. He was twirling Mutsuki's eyepatch around one finger.

His heart sank.

There was just… no way…

There was no way Mutsuki could win.

So…

He sat up very slowly, his fingers closing around the hilt of his dagger. Touka's brother—Ayato, wasn't it?— merely watched with a bored expression.

"Okay," he said, "look. I don't want to beat the snot out of you, contrary to belief. Just come with me, and we'll skip the fight shit."

"What?" Mutsuki squinted at him. "Are you… are… you serious?"

Ayato stared at him with heavily lidded eyes. "I'm giving you ten seconds to decide." He pulled a mask out from under his arm and raised it over his head.

Mutsuki sat, his legs paralyzed beneath him, his hand shaky at the hilt of his quinque. He remembered what Suzuya had said— that his hands were too unsteady to kill anyone. Was that true?

Should he put it to the test?

Ten seconds.

No, he had less than that now.

Oh no, time was going so—so _fast_.

Mutsuki could hear himself breathing.

He could feel himself wasting precious time.

What should he do, oh god, oh god, _oh god—_?

"What's goin' on…?" a groggy voice called.

Mutsuki jerked once more to his feet, staring past Ayato's head and into the room behind him. Shirazu had sat up, his head in one hand, and his expression strained. He looked confused and frightened, his face taut and his left eye blackened and veined.

Ayato put on his mask, which completely covered his face, and Mutsuki was stunned to see that it was a rabbit staring back at him.

Uh oh.

Ayato turned his head to glance at Shirazu. Mutsuki took this chance to dash forward, and when Ayato moved to block whatever attack he assumed Mutsuki was sending, Mutsuki dropped down and slid under his legs. He jumped up and met Shirazu's eye, watching him kick his blankets back, his expression twisting in horror.

"No—!" Shirazu shouted as Mutsuki grabbed the door and slammed it shut. He slid his knife through the handle and stabbed it into the doorframe to prevent Shirazu from running out into the hall.

He couldn't hold in a scream as Ayato kicked him again, this time punting him half way down the hall and causing him to roll several times, his limbs twisting painfully again and again and again. He finally stopped, his whole body shuddering in pain, and he realized very fast that he needed to get up. He needed to get up right now.

So he did.

It hurt, but he managed to drag himself up and dash down the hall, grabbing a cart and tossing it onto its side. He heard Ayato jump over it.

His heart was thudding so hard and his knees were shaking so bad and there was a knot in his stomach the size of Jupiter and a lump in his throat the size of the sun and he _knew_ he couldn't outrun him. He was an ukaku, he was literally _made_ to be fast. He was made to beat bikakus. Mutsuki had no chance.

But he was still running. That counted for something, right?

Mutsuki skidded around a corner and snatched his extra quinque from the small of his back, crouching on the floor close to the wall. He edged closer to the corner, and when Ayato came speeding around, he couldn't stop his momentum fast enough to halt at Mutsuki. Which allowed him to get a good slice at the back of his knee before dashing around the corner again.

"Fuck!" he heard Ayato cry, his rage shaking the entire hall.

 _Oh wow,_ Mutsuki thought, smiling shakily, _I'm gonna die._

It should have been a more terrifying prospect.

He managed to make it all the way to the end of the hall and then around a corner without Ayato's pursuit. He slammed the button on the elevator, and listened to it ding. He knew that Ayato would hear it as well. So he got in, hit a random floor, and then jumped out before the door closed. He flung himself into the nearest room and pressed himself up against a wall, sliding down to the floor and covering his mouth with his hands.

"God fucking—!" he heard Ayato snarl from the hall. "What the fuck? Ugh!" Then something slammed, likely Ayato's fist against the metal door of the elevator. " _Fine_. Down the stairs I fucking go! Hope you're happy, we're doing this your way."

Mutsuki didn't allow himself to start breathing again until he heard Ayato's heavy footfalls on the steps. He inhaled sharply, his hands falling limply at his sides as he heaved deep, deep breaths. His whole body was shaking so badly, his fingers trembling against his eyes. He thought he might cry, but no tears came, so he kept breathing. In and out. Right.

This wasn't a panic attack. It was just his adrenaline fading.

His heart might just burst from his ribs and send bits of bone exploding around the room.

He found himself shakily pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans, cupping it in both his hands and taking deep breaths. He was gonna vomit, oh god, he was gonna—

No. He had to be steady. He had to be strong.

He had to get help right now.

With his shaky, quaking hands, he dialed Kaneki's number.

He pressed the receiver to his ear and let his head fall back against the wall. The tone rung. And rung. And—

" _Mutsuki_?" Kaneki asked tentatively. " _Is something—_?"

"You have to come back to the hospital right now!" Mutsuki gasped. "Something's happened, I can't fight—!"

The light from the hallway was blotted out by a looming figure. The shadow stretched for into the room, and Mutsuki froze.

 _Kagune_ , he thought, _kagune, come on. Come out. Come on. Come on!_

" _What? Mutsuki, what's happening…? I'm coming back right now, don't move!_ "

Mutsuki set the phone down and pushed it away from him.

A giant hand seized him by the throat and lifted him into the air like he was a rag doll. Mutsuki choked, his quinque slipping from his fingers as he grappled at the hand cutting off the air from his lungs. He kicked at the ghoul pitifully, his blows hitting the man's chest and causing no real effect.

"Looks like a one eye to me," the looming ghoul chuckled, his massive thumb pressing to Mutsuki's jaw and turning his face to the side. "Yeah. That's one eye. Do you have any idea how rare you are?"

Mutsuki glared at him.

"Oho!" The man pulled Mutsuki into the light, and Mutsuki saw that he was wearing a mask that was reminiscent of hockey players. "Scary look. What, you gonna try and fight?"

He squeezed Mutsuki's trachea tighter, and Mutsuki couldn't even gasp, he just made the most despicably pained noise he'd ever heard. It made the ghoul _laugh_.

"That's right," he said, cracking his finger. Mutsuki's eyes widened, and he felt a startling disconnect between what he was feeling right now and what he knew to be reality. He just… checked out. Unplugged whatever nerves connected to his senses. He drifted between states, feeling so much, feeling all of the pain and the terror and the anxiety, and falling away into a dreamlike state where nothing was real but one big gaping eye. "No more running. No more hiding. It's you and me, kiddo."

Mutsuki let himself fall limp. It was easier that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedo, dedere, dedidi, deditus.  
> to give up, surrender.  
> to devote.  
> to abandon.


	24. ecclesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still lowkey salty about how these chapters fell in terms of where :re is right now, since i wrote them in advance and planned this particular arc literally when i got the idea for this fic and didn't know if i was actually going to write it, but i mean what can you do. at least i can trust myself with mutsuki's characterization.
> 
> um, anyways, i'm not sure when my next update will be because i'm going to be really, really busy next week with midterms. probably the week after, since that's spring break. bear w me guys, writing angst is my specialty.

Outside the hospital, police cars and news broadcasters swarmed the road, traffic congesting in all directions because of the interference. Kaneki had ran from the subway, finding himself amidst a pit of panic. The police officers were keeping the area closed off as the broadcasters filmed the outside of the building. And the CCG filed in.

Kaneki jumped the barricade. He shoved his Investigator ID to the first cop that yelled at him and continued to sprint through the row of cars and toward the entrance.

He could hear the news broadcaster's report, and it filled him with cold, unrelenting dread.

"— resulting in five fatalities and twelve wounded. Many of the patients have been evacuated and moved—"

 _Mutsuki,_ he thought numbly, pushing through the doors and nearly crashing into an investigator that had been stationed at the entrance, _Shirazu… please be okay… please be okay…_

"Whoa there," the investigator said, holding up his hands. He was rather young looking, his expression relaxed and measured in spite of the chaos that seemed to pervade this place. Doctors were rushing even here at the entrance, shouting orders and whisking patients out the door. Kaneki spotted a rather large, grotesque bloodstain smeared in a pool across the linoleum tile floor, and splattered halfway up the wall both ways. The blood completely covered the front desk. Kaneki suddenly felt nauseous. What had _happened_? He hadn't even been gone two hours! "You can't come in here, kiddo."

"I'm an investigator," Kaneki snapped, shoving past the man. It didn't trigger much of a reaction, for his eyes remained closed and his expression only shifted slightly. "What the fuck happened here?"

"Snippy," the investigator remarked, smirking at Kaneki. "If you were called in, you should know the situation. Who are you?"

"I'm Kaneki Ken, and I don't have fucking time for this." Kaneki brushed past him and jogged down the hall, dodging nurses and doctors and patients and investigators alike. The investigator shouted after him, and while Kaneki waited at the elevator, the man managed to catch up. He skidded to a stop beside Kaneki and jerked a finger at him.

" _You're_ Kaneki Ken?" the investigator gaped.

Kaneki stared at him dully. The elevator slid open, and he looked away sharply, entering the elevator without a word. The investigator followed mutely.

"What are you doing?" Kaneki asked him in a low, dangerous voice.

The man shot him an easy smile. "Going up?" he offered, his finger hovering over the line of buttons on the wall. Kaneki gritted his teeth. He sighed, and gestured to the button. The man punched it enthusiastically. "You're a bit of a legend around the main branch, you know. Nobody really wants to believe you exist."

"How unfortunate for them," Kaneki said, his fingers closing into fists at his side. "The monster is real. Take a fucking picture."

"Nobody said you were a monster," the man said breezily. "Yeesh. Hard on yourself, much?"

"Tell me what happened here," Kaneki demanded, rounding on the man. "The ghouls— who were the ghouls who did this?"

"We don't know yet," the man said calmly. "Most of us have only just arrived on the scene— and the witnesses are giving conflicting accounts."

Kaneki exhaled sharply, drawing his hands up to his face and covering his eyes. This was really bad, wasn't it? He doubted Tsukiyama was responsible, since Kaneki had him on a rather short leash, and not even Tsukiyama was stupid enough to attack such a public place when Kaneki could easily just tell the CCG everything about him. No, it had to be someone else.

Aogiri? He didn't doubt they'd go this far to get to him, but it seemed so… attention seeking. Attacking a hospital? That was unheard of for a ghoul. Only terrorists would be so bold.

"Are you okay?" the man asked cautiously.

Kaneki wanted to scream.

"No," he said thickly, lowering his hands as the elevator slid open. He stepped out and took a look around. There was a body bag on the floor, and an investigator looked up.

"Kuramoto," he greeted. His eyes slid to Kaneki's, and he frowned deeply. "Now who is this?"

"He said he's Kaneki Ken," Kuramoto said as Kaneki rushed from the elevator, searching the faces of investigators that swarmed the floor for a sign of his missing friend. "Ah, Kaneki, wait up!"

The moment Kuramoto said his name, whispers seemed to spread like a rolling fog though the hall. He could hear it, the trepidation and the caution that pervaded this group of doves. He was in main branch jurisdiction now. Amon and Shinohara couldn't help him.

He had to help himself.

"Excuse me," said an investigator, "but I don't think you're supposed to be here."

"He's not."

Kaneki walked up to Ui Koori, expecting to be able to breeze past him. Ui blocked his path, his eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here, Kaneki?" Ui asked sharply.

"Get out of my way," Kaneki said dully. "I don't want to hurt you."

Ui's eyes narrowed further, and he glanced around him fervently. Investigators were closing in, he noticed, enclosing him in a circle where he could not possibly break free without a struggle. Ui's chin pointed downwards, his expression grim.

"These investigators will escort you out," Ui told him, his knuckles white against his briefcase. He turned away very slowly, his eyes lingering intensely on Kaneki's face. "I won't forget the threat."

"It wasn't a threat, it was a warning," Kaneki snapped. "What _happened_ here? Where's Mutsuki and Shirazu?"

Ui glanced back at him sharply, and his expression changed minutely. His narrowed eyes became wide, showcasing how large and childlike they really were. He waved his hand in a sharp cutting motion, and the investigators parted, shooting each other wary looks.

"You know the ghoul?" Ui asked sharply.

"What ghoul?" Kaneki's voice was thin and weak, and he knew he'd already betrayed his answer.

Ui watched him dully. He rolled his eyes and wheeled around, gesturing for Kaneki to follow. Kaneki did so quietly, thinking through his approach to this matter. He hadn't expected the CCG to be here— hell, he had hoped to come and find everything to be okay, that Mutsuki had handled it. But his anxiety only seemed to grow as they walked through the hall, stepping over an overturned cart and gesturing toward Shirazu's room. Kaneki pushed past him and ran in.

Shirazu was not lying on his bed. Instead, he was slumped in the corner, his wrists shackled and his eyes dazed.

"Shirazu!" Kaneki rushed to the boy's side, grabbing his face and tapping it gently. "Shirazu, wake up! Are you okay?"

"So you do know him," Ui observed coolly from the doorway.

Kaneki froze. Shirazu shuddered, a small groan escaping his lips. He slumped forward, his forehead bumping against Kaneki's chest. "K-kane…kun?" he mumbled, his voice slurring thickly with pain. A chill ran through him, the notion of him calling him _Kanekun_ a little too much to bear at the moment. "Kanekun, I'm… I'm so cold…"

"I'm here," Kaneki gasped, his panic growing by the second. He wrapped his arms around Shirazu and cradled him close to his chest. "I'm right here. It's okay, you're going to be okay."

"I-it hurts…" Shirazu's breath was hot against Kaneki's collarbone, and his tears dampened Kaneki's cotton shirt. "Ya didn't say… it'd hurt this much…"

"What?" Kaneki pushed him back and took his face once again, searching it wildly. "What hurts?"

Shirazu wasn't even looking at him. His expression was so distant and dazed, and his head lolled. "Uh… m-my shoulder…"

"He's an ukaku," Ui supplied from the doorway, "as was one of the attacking ghouls."

"You think _Shirazu_ did this?" Kaneki cried, twisting around violently. If he were any angrier, he would have snapped himself in half. "He just got out of surgery! You idiot!"

"Kanekun, stop," Shirazu choked, tugging on Kaneki's collar. "Stop… it's not his fault… I attacked them."

"You what?" Kaneki's eyes whisked back to his face, darting it wildly. "You… oh my god, Shirazu, there is no way… you used your kagune _already_?"

The boy moaned, and his head drooped. "It really hurts…" he mumbled.

"Ui," Kaneki whispered. He looked at the man, his heart beginning to race as Shirazu rested his head against Kaneki's shoulder, his breathing shallow and raspy. "Associate Special Class, please— please call Dr. Shiba! Something's wrong, he shouldn't have… I don't understand, I don't know what's going to happen to him— Mutsuki never—!"

"What the hell is going on?" Ui stepped into the room, his eyes flicking from Kaneki to Shirazu and back. "That boy is a ghoul. Three investigators reported him using an ukaku type kagune to beat them back when they tried to enter the room. He was trapped in here for a reason."

"Trapped?" Kaneki didn't understand. He didn't get it at all! "Shirazu is a ghoul investigator, just like you or me!"

"That's illogical," Ui said firmly. "He is a ghoul."

"You _scared_ him, that's all!" Kaneki pressed his hand gently against the back of Shirazu's head, his fingers getting lost in his feathery yellow hair. "He shouldn't have used his kagune. No wonder it hurts! He was just implanted with a kakuhou six hours ago!"

Ui's eyes flashed wide, the horror flickering in the depths of them for a few moments before he seemed to calm himself. "That's not right," he said simply. "Another half ghoul? No. The CCG would not tolerate—"

"The CCG proposed this idea, executed it, _and_ continued to seek new results without the organization as a whole knowing," Kaneki hissed. "Get a clue, Associate Special Class! Everybody is keeping something from someone, and the CCG is no different. I'm about as happy about this as you are, but I was told _explicitly_ that I have no say in this, and that I can either be there for the kids who get the surgery, or I don't interact with them at all. Will you please call Dr. Shiba? Shirazu's shaking really bad."

Ui's jaw set, and Kaneki could tell that he was troubled by everything Kaneki had said. He shook his head. "I don't believe this," he said firmly.

Kaneki tore his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he got to the name he wanted. He hit call and waited. When the other line picked up, he exhaled in relief.

"Please convince Ui Koori that arresting Shirazu Ginshi is an awful idea," he told Yoshitoki curtly. He didn't wait for and answer, he just jerked the phone at Ui and rubbed Shirazu's back. He could feel the frayed hole in his hospital gown where his kagune must have sliced through.

Shirazu was immensely powerful. What a frightening prospect that was.

Ui took the phone cautiously, watching Kaneki with a puzzled expression. He pressed the phone to his ear, and said in an easy voice, "This is Associate Special Class Ui Koori."

"You'll be okay," Kaneki assured Shirazu quietly. "I'm sorry this happened to you. Do you want to lie down?"

"No…" Shirazu mumbled.

"D- _Director_?" Ui cried, slapping his forehead in dismay. He looked at Kaneki like he'd given him a ticking bomb. "I— no, no, we didn't injure him— he apparently passed out before our men could properly— he said he's in pain. I'm not sure— no. No, we did not hurt him. Rank 3 Kaneki said that he used his kagune fresh out of surgery, but I can't quite believe that the CCG would sponsor such a—" Ui grimaced, shooting a tired glance at Kaneki. "Oh. I see. I understand. I'm… sorry for the mix up, sir. We're still trying to piece together what happened here."

"Do you still feel cold?" Kaneki whispered. Shirazu sniffled.

"Ahh…" His shoulders rose and fell, and he hissed in pain. "N-nah… I feel real warm now, actually…"

"You're probably healing." Kaneki let out a little sigh of relief. "That's good."

"It's not good…" Shirazu hissed, pulling back and wiping his eyes. "It's not good at all…"

"You're coming here?" Ui blurted. He closed his eyes and turned his back to Kaneki. "Of course, sir. Yes, I'll release him, I'm sorry for the mistake. Yes, Kaneki Ken is here. I— no, I'm not sure who that is, but Rank 3 Kaneki came alone. Yes, sir, I'll ask." He glanced back at Kaneki. "The Bureau Director would like to know if Mutsuki Tooru is here."

Shirazu stiffened beneath Kaneki's hands, causing Kaneki to look down at him sharply. His heart sank. "Shirazu?" He pulled away from the boy, staring into his dull eyes and searching for a positive sign. He found none. "Where is Mutsuki?"

Shirazu shrunk back as though Kaneki had struck at him. "He…" Shirazu's voice was shaky and thin. "Oh… oh, god, Kanekun, I— I'm so sorry… I just… I woke up, and… I couldn't…"

Kaneki jumped to his feet. He looked back at Ui, who was standing only a few meters away, his hand pressed to the receiver and his eyes wide.

"Is he alive?" Ui asked Shirazu calmly in spite of his expression.

"I don't know," Shirazu croaked, looking up at Ui with widening eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and he dropped his shackled hands to the floor and touched his forehead to the linoleum. "Please forgive me, I couldn't… I couldn't save him…"

"Shirazu, please get up," Kaneki gasped. "What happened is not your fault! You couldn't have done _anything_ in your condition. You shouldn't have even tried to fight!"

"But he's gone now!" Shirazu cried. "The Rabbit… the Rabbit must have…"

"Rabbit?" Ui's eyes shifted to Kaneki. "That's one of your targets, is it not?"

Kaneki had gone completely still at the mention of Rabbit. He was imagining it now, Touka being flagged down by investigators, too many swarming her at once, and suddenly she was down and the quinques were lashing, and what could he do? He was one of them.

"Rabbit is…" He struggled to find the right words here. His heart was thudding in his chest, and he knew he had to calm down, but he felt so nauseated. Mutsuki was missing, possibly dead, and Kaneki could not function in the face of grief. He was scared of who he would become— not particularly because Mutsuki was not here, but because of the nature of Mutsuki's disappearance. "Rabbit is the twentieth ward's jurisdiction. I will take care of the investigation."

Ui eyed him, and he turned his face away. He spoke into Kaneki's phone. "Sir, I will personally contact the twentieth ward's branch and let them decide how to proceed with the Rabbit investigation. Thank you. I'll speak with you soon." He ended the call and handed the phone back to Kaneki. His face was vacant and expressionless. "You don't have the rank to be making such declarations, Kaneki Ken. Let me be the first to remind you, you are young and inexperienced and have not proven that you can take on the responsibility of an investigation that is now high priority and high profile. The public wants to know that they're safe— that their sick and dying won't be attacked again by monsters. You can't assure them of anything when you're a monster yourself."

Kaneki stood, his fists clenched at his sides. He felt the weight of Ui's words as they crashed into him, bullets perforating his chest and nicking his beaten ribs. He felt small and unimportant here— for the first time he truly felt the inferiority of his rank, and how simple it was to get lost in the politics of the CCG. His connection to Yoshitoki had made him haughty. His relationship with the higher ranking investigators in his own branch had made him forget.

He meant next to nothing to the CCG.

He stepped aside to allow Ui to unlock Shirazu's shackles. Shirazu curled up on the floor, looking pained and miserable, his hair falling into his face and masking the extent of his despair. Ui knelt beside him, watching him with a vague look in his eye, like he didn't quite know what to make of him.

"The missing boy," he said suddenly, causing Shirazu to stiffen, "fought Rabbit, you say?"

"Yeah…" Shirazu shifted, sniffing rather pitifully, and wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I saw 'em."

"Tell me exactly what you saw."

Shirazu sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Kaneki knelt at his other side, resting a hand gingerly on his shoulder. Shirazu bowed his head sadly and leaned into Kaneki's touch.

"I remember… wakin' up to lots bangin'. Like, bodies bein' thrashed around. I knew there was a fight goin' on, 'cause ya can't really mask the sound of someone getting kicked in the gut. It's like second nature to me. So I got this sense of, well sounds like a brawl, better skedaddle, but when I woke up I was hooked up to that machine." He pointed vaguely toward the heart monitor and IV drip. "And I couldn't move. But the door was open, and I saw Mutsuki— I saw him talkin' to the ghoul."

"Talking?" Ui asked sharply. "I thought you said they were fighting."

"They were— they _did_ — but not right then. No, I remember… I think the Rabbit was tryin' to convince Mutsuki not to fight?" Shirazu shook his head. "I was so confused, man, I remember I said somethin'—and Mutsuki must've gotten real scared, 'cause when that guy started to turn towards me, it was all… it was so fast, man, I dunno… Mutsuki just got in front of him and— and slammed the door, and I think he must've jammed it somehow 'cause I couldn't get out when I tried to."

"Describe the Rabbit for me," Ui insisted.

Shirazu winced as he shifted, his shoulders rising and falling. "Uh… short. Real short, shorter than Mutsuki…"

"How tall is Mutsuki?"

"Uh…?" Shirazu gestured somewhere along his jaw. "Short?"

"Insightful. Continue."

"He was small, and he had dark hair, um… I don't know, I only really saw him from the back. He sounded young, though. Probably a guy about our age."

"A teenage male ghoul, then." Ui nodded curtly. "Thank you. That puts things into perspective."

 _Ayato_ , Kaneki thought, glancing away from Ui and Shirazu in a sudden and shuddering revelation. Touka would not be pleased that her brother had taken her identity. Or that he was being hunted by doves.

But now Kaneki knew.

He _knew_.

"When is the Bureau Director coming?" he demanded, looking at Ui sharply. Ui merely watched him, his expression remaining the same.

"He gets here when he gets here," Ui said. "Now, Kaneki, you'll come with me. I want you to see if you can identify any of the bodies as Mutsuki."

Kaneki could hardly contain his nausea. It made his whole body run cold, a shiver shooting down his spine. And then a certain sort of numbness took hold of him, clinging to his skin like rain soaked cloth. He felt the disconnect— the sharp decrease of emotional response, the drastic shift in his reaction time. He was unplugged and uncaring. He could sift through a hundred dead bodies, and it would mean all the same.

He untangled himself from Shirazu and stood up.

There was work to be done.

* * *

"Wake up."

Mutsuki jolted awake, a boot colliding with his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath hitching in his throat. He'd thought it had been a bad dream. A bad, bad dream. His heart was in his throat and his mind was in the clouds and he had no way to extricate these feelings from what he knew to be reality. He was removing himself, piece by piece, from the full picture. He would wake up soon and find that he no longer even truly existed.

Maybe that was exactly what he wanted.

"Move." Ayato jerked his leg as though to kick him again, but Mutsuki was fast on his feet and walking without another word. His eyes felt heavy and prickly. His feet dragged against the weeds. He listened to them crunch beneath his shoes, tangling up in one another as they resigned themselves to their trampled fate.

The night, he knew, was going to break soon. He'd been able to see fine in the dead of night, shocked by his own perception of the trees shooting towards the sky and the tangled underbrush that crawled below. He saw the leaves skittering meters upon meters away, and he saw his own reflection in a rusted, abandoned hubcap. This was all in complete darkness. But now the light was sneaking in, slow and quiet, treading its first steps upon the depths of the horizon.

"Oh," Mutsuki said quietly, stopping at a railing to look up at the looming building ahead. It was old and dilapidated, but modern enough that its architecture suggested something within the past few decades. It was a young, dead thing. Ambitious from start to finish, a relic of an age of opportunity. Where young things could thrive and then, without warning, fall into the strangling grips of obscurity.

"Let's _go_." Ayato kicked his back, and Mutsuki buckled, nearly toppling over the rail. "Dumbass."

Mutsuki didn't remember much after being caught by the hockey mask ghoul. He knew he must have been knocked out, but he didn't even remember that much, and it frightened him.

He followed Ayato into the building, struck by the sudden breath full of decay. The walls were peeling back, sheetrock and boards littering the floor. There were gaping holes in the ceiling where bits of the upper floor peeked through, and the scent of dust and death was swirling all around, catching inside his throat.

"W-what is this place?" Mutsuki gasped.

"Keep going."

Mutsuki sighed. What did he think was going to happen? Ayato would just be his friend? _He didn't want to fight me_ , he thought, eying the boy's back distrustfully. _Why_?

He didn't say anything. He knew better than to speak in a place like this. He knew better than to think to speak when it was clear that he was here to either die or suffer. Regardless of Ayato's feelings on the matter. What was the use in asking for his opinion? For his reasoning? Mutsuki knew what it was like to be trapped, and he could only move forward mechanically as the feeling settled in.

"I'm going to give you some advice," Ayato said in his cold, haughty little voice. Mutsuki eyed him, noting his thin shoulders and tiny frame. He heard the soft crack in his voice that he tried to bury deep. He was nothing more than a child— nothing more than Mutsuki himself. "Don't talk. Don't look at anyone directly. Don't piss around, don't make yourself something to look at, don't bat an eye when you're ordered around even if that order is to _die_. All you're allowed to do is stand and look like the obedient, salivating dog you doves love to be. Got it?"

"Yes," Mutsuki replied flatly.

Ayato glanced at him. His steps had faltered for half a beat, which Mutsuki noted carefully. This boy was haughty and angry and violent, but then… so was Touka.

She had to be the key to getting out of this mess.

"Another bit of key advice," Ayato continued, looking back at him with an expression that was almost amused, "the people at the top aren't softies like me, kay? You better watch yourself from here on out."

"Yes," Mutsuki replied softly, bowing his head. "I understand."

Ayato stared at him with his dull eyes narrowing. He continued to stare, perhaps for a little longer than he should have, which Mutsuki noted. He felt the stare, and did not meet it. It was better if he just kept to himself, said what he was supposed to say, and survived for as long as possible.

The debris beneath Ayato's boots crunched as he whirled away, scoffing softly to himself. Mutsuki followed him, his words echoing inside his head. A dog. A dog of the CCG. For real? Mutsuki had never been in the field. He'd never actually fought a ghoul before Ayato, and that had consisted mostly of Mutsuki's ass getting kicked and then Mutsuki running away. So he wasn't in the position to fight regardless.

Ayato led him through a yawning entrance, and Mutsuki stopped, his legs freezing up as he soaked in the sight before him. Dozens— hundreds of hooded ghouls were kneeling in rows with their backs to him. He shuddered, and quickly picked up his pace, stepping at Ayato's heel and gripping the hem of his shirt. It had gotten untucked in the fray.

"Tatara," Ayato called, "I brought the one eye."

"Yes," said a looming figure, sitting at the very front of the room. Mutsuki squinted at him, noting how he was positioned like a king before his subjects. The ghoul dragged his finger through the air. "Come here."

Mutsuki didn't know who he was talking to, so he glanced at Ayato. Ayato jerked his chin, and Mutsuki's stomach tied up in knots.

"Go on," Ayato hissed.

Mutsuki's hands clenched and unclenched. He took a deep breath, and he moved, his feet dragging forward against the rickety wooden floor. He felt every stare like it was the last stare he'd ever feel, and it made his skin seem to burn.

He stopped before the ghoul, lowering his head and dropping his shoulders. He listened to the floor creak in protest as the man stood. He held his breath, and thought about all the places he could be right now that was not here. If he imagined them, would that make the stares stop? Would that send him far, far away, where he could be alone and safe?

His face was snatched by the ghoul, his skin pinching painfully between the man's bony fingers as he clutched his cheeks. The ghoul jerked Mutsuki's head up in order to look him in the eye. Mutsuki stared, his wide eyes darting along the man's face. He was wearing a red mask that covered half of it, but his dead eyes suggested no pity would be given here.

"Hm." Tatara thumbed the tender skin beneath Mutsuki's right eye. "Right eye, huh? Well, you certainly do have it. But why is it permanently active?"

Mutsuki stared at him. He could feel himself shaking, and it knew it would help nothing and now one.

Tatara threw him to the floor, and Mutsuki curled into himself. He expected something more— some kicking, or a beating, or something. But no blows came, so he sat up slowly.

"Tch," Tatara had turned away. "That means it is true, then. Rize was killed. Kirishima… explain. This boy does not smell like Rize."

"You wanted the one eye," Ayato said flatly. "I brought the one eye. Hell if I know what Rize smells like— you didn't tell me to bring Nico."

"Yamori should have brought Nico."

"Well, he didn't." Ayato was crouched near the entrance, looking tired and bored.

"Well," Tatara said, "regardless, I don't need this boy. Kirishima, get rid of him."

Mutsuki sat frozen on the floor, his fists clenching. He heard those words, but he didn't really process them. Was this… really for nothing? He felt dizzy and sick even just thinking about it.

And then he realized something.

Rize?

 _I don't smell like Rize_ , he thought. _Rize. The rightful owner of Kaneki's kakuhou_.

Had… they been looking for Kaneki?

Oh no. Mutsuki shuddered. Oh _no_. This had gone from bad to worse.

"I had thought," Tatara said, glancing down at him dully, "that even if you were not Rize, we could use her power through you— but I see now. You are weak. That eye of yours— regardless of how active it is— is no good." He turned away, his chin jerking toward Ayato. "You can do with him what you'd like. Make him into a soldier or a sandbag. I don't care."

"I understand," Ayato said.

Tatara sat back down heavily. "However… he still didn't show up, did he…? The doctor who escaped was just as I expected, then?" He eyed Mutsuki. Mutsuki jolted upright, his mouth falling open. Doctor? Now… now he couldn't really be talking about Kanou, right…? No, that was too simple! "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes," Mutsuki replied softly.

"Enlighten me."

"It's— I…" He winced, and he took a deep breath. He could not hesitate here. He had to swallow down all his nerves. Close off all his anxiety. He had to live. "You mentioned Rize, so… I assume you're talking about Dr. Kanou…?"

Tatara watched him. He offered a small scoff, and rested his cheek against his fist. "Perhaps you are not as dumb as you look. Tell me, boy. What do you know about Kanou?"

Mutsuki thought about the Yasuhisa twins. He closed his eyes. "Only the obvious," he said quietly. "He's responsible for the surgery. And for what happened to Rize."

"You think he was responsible for Rize's death?"

Mutsuki was reminded that Rize could very easily not be dead, if Amon was correct. He didn't want to say that, though— he couldn't. _Does he really think I'm Kaneki?_ Mutsuki thought wildly. He raised his head. "I know nothing more than that I am here because Dr. Kanou decided to play god," he said in a soft, but firm voice.

Tatara watched. And then he rolled his eyes. "Useless," he sighed. "What _do_ they teach the doves? I've been wondering. What do they say to you to make you so utterly useless?"

Mutsuki did not reply. He supposed there was no real answer to this question. It was posed merely to create a restless murmur in the ghouls around them.

"Perhaps," Tatara murmured, "I can make use of you yet. What would the CCG do if they received your head in a bag?"

"Nothing," Mutsuki replied.

Tatara stared.

Mutsuki sighed. He lowered his head. And he lowered it more.

"Kill me," he whispered. "If that's your objective— if that's what you really want, then do it. But don't expect any emotional or visceral reaction from the CCG. Ghouls kill investigators all the time. I'm not high ranking enough for more than three investigators to bat an eye."

"How unexpectedly heartless," Tatara stated. He rolled his eyes. "But your point is fair. Tell me your rank."

"Rank 3."

"Is there such a thing?"

"Yes." Mutsuki kept his head low. "Investigators who don't complete the academy are given Rank 3 status."

"That is the lowest of the low." Tatara crossed his legs and scoffed again. "You truly are worth nothing, aren't you? If we tortured you, could you even give us valuable information?"

Mutsuki didn't respond. He'd heard the word torture and frozen up. It didn't really matter now what he said, and he knew it. The end result would be the same.

Torture. Of course it would come to this.

"The doves will probably catch wind of this place soon…" Tatara glanced around. "Perhaps we should send them a message… Yamori. Yes, I can see your face from here. Take him if you must, but don't kill him. I want a report of every word he tells you."

"Yes, sir."

Mutsuki knew the voice, and he felt his spirits crumbling. Torture. Of course. Could it really have come to anything but this? He shot a glance back at the entrance, and he met Ayato's eye. He had no reaction. But behind him, leaning against the doorframe, Kirishima Touka gaped. She took a short step forward, her mouth open wide.

"You're letting _Yamori_ —!"

Touka was snatched back, her mouth covered by Ayato's hand and both of them disappeared into the dark corridor without another word.

Mutsuki was yanked up by the arm. He felt like a rag doll.

Such a familiar feeling.

 _Kill me_ , he thought. His eyes darted between each and every ghoul that managed to meet his eye. _Kill me, please, just do it! I don't want this!_

But none of them did anything.

No one came to his aid.

* * *

Nauseous. He felt simply nauseous.

"Mutsuki Tooru is not among the bodies recovered," Kaneki reported to Yoshitoki, ripping off the bloody latex gloves he'd been using while Ui had stood at his back and watched. "Which means he was likely taken by the assailant."

Aogiri, Aogiri, Aogiri.

The name was singing in his head like a child's lament.

A story told in whispers over a fire. A name that made demons writhe and hiss and spit in contempt.

Suffering was easier when you didn't know what was coming.

But he knew every solitary unspeakable act that was to be inflicted upon Mutsuki, and it made his insides burn.

"Kidnapped." Yoshitoki frowned, cupping his chin as he glanced around at the glorious carnage Aogiri had left behind. There were body bags lining the far wall, and streaks of blood still marred the bare surfaces. The lower floors had the most casualties, while the upper floors consisted mostly of a few injuries here and there. Kaneki could not quite process that all of this had happened in the short span of time that he'd been with Touka.

Ui stepped between Kaneki and Yoshitoki, offering an evidence bag that he must have procured while Kaneki was examining the corpses. He wondered why Ui had thought it'd be a swell idea to let the ghoul fool around with some dead people, but Kaneki couldn't complain. At least he knew Mutsuki was alive. Even if it was causing him to shut down like a computer that had been unplugged without warning.

"This was found outside Shirazu's door," Ui said, handing the bag over to Yoshitoki. "I assume it is that boy's quinque?"

"Yes." Yoshitoki flipped the bag over a few times in his hand to examine the dagger. He looked puzzled. "You said Shirazu was trapped inside his room. Mutsuki locked him in there, then?"

"That's what we believe," Ui said, "though I don't know why. The ghouls could have easily gotten in."

"I think Mutsuki was more concerned about Shirazu getting out," Yoshitoki sighed, handing the dagger back to Ui. "I see now. The intentions of these ghouls are clear. Did you notice that no humans were taken or eaten?"

"Yes," Kaneki said in a clipped, even tone. Ui glanced at him warily. "They weren't here for meat. They were here for Mutsuki."

"Or you." Yoshitoki reached out and touched Kaneki's shoulder. He couldn't help but tense up, his eyes flashing away rapidly. He could not look at this man, not when so much was at stake right now. Kaneki felt nothing, or on the verge of nothing, or perhaps he'd felt so many emotions at once that he'd blown a fuse. There was no way for him to connect with the things he knew he should be feeling. It made him distinctly nauseous.

"So it's my fault." Kaneki shrugged off Yoshitoki's hand and shook his head. "I realized that the moment I got Mutsuki's call."

"Mutsuki called you?" Both Yoshitoki and Ui looked at him sharply. "What did he say?"

"He just told me to come back," Kaneki sighed. "That he couldn't fight them. He sounded… scared." It was an understatement. Mutsuki Tooru had sounded so terrified that he'd been on the edge of bursting into tears. "I'm sorry. You were right, sir, I can't take care of them. I could have protected them if I was here, but I wasn't."

"And why weren't you?" Ui asked, his eyes narrowing. Yoshitoki held up his hand to silence Ui, and he turned to Kaneki.

"What happened here was a tragedy," he said firmly. "But since Mutsuki is most likely merely captured, I think it's more than probable that we can retrieve him."

"You want to storm Aogiri?" Kaneki blurted. Even in his worn out, vacant state, he couldn't quite contain his excitement.

"How the hell did you connect this mess to Aogiri?" Ui asked him, his expression grim. "Nothing has suggested that the attacks are linked to them."

Yoshitoki looked at Kaneki expectantly. Kaneki merely stared, wondering how he was supposed to bullshit his way out of this one. Like, he'd known it had been Aogiri from the moment Shirazu had mentioned Rabbit. But they couldn't know that. So…?

Kaneki sighed, running his fingers through his hair and glancing back at the body bags. He was struck with a sudden, sickening idea.

"Most of those killed," he said, jerking a thumb back at the corpses, "were not killed by Rabbit. Maybe one of them was, but that's about it."

"How on earth would you know that?" Ui asked, folding his arms across his chest. He looked doubtful, which was to be expected.

"Because Rabbit is from my ward, and I know what their kills look like," Kaneki informed him curtly. "Rabbit is an ukaku. They're small and fast and pretty damn graceful— this is just an observation, but when Rabbit kills, they immediately go in for the finishing blow. It's quick and neat. Nobody suffers. This?" Kaneki threw out his arms, making wide gestures to the massacre that had stained the blinding white walls of the hospital corridor. "This was someone else. Judging by the bodies, which I _did_ examine, most of these people were killed by someone much bigger than rabbit. Probably more unstable and eager to cause pain. Like—!" Kaneki stopped midsentence to whirl around and march up to a body bag. He snatched a pair of gloves on his way, and he crouched down as he tugged them on.

"What are you doing?" Ui sighed.

"Look." Kaneki unzipped the body bag, revealing a gruesomely dismembered human corpse. The head was split in two, the abdomen intact but disemboweled, the arms twisted and broken but still connected loosely to their sockets. "The arms were broken first— this was done just by the brute strength of the ghoul, which ukaku's would not bother with. This ghoul was probably a koukaku or rinkaku, relying on close range attacks that just barrel through everyone that gets in their way. And since this ghoul was primarily interested in making these victims suffer— I think it was probably Jason."

"Jason," Yoshitoki said flatly. "And what proof do you have of that?"

"Lots of people saw an ukaku ghoul," Kaneki said flatly, "but nobody saw this one. Why? Because this ghoul killed anyone who saw him. Jason is known for being overly violent and messy with his kills, and eager to rip people apart. He's also connected to Aogiri. Which, sir, you know was interested in finding me."

"Why?" Ui asked, glancing between Kaneki and Yoshitoki incredulously. "These are baseless assumptions! You can't really—!"

"Associate Special Class," Yoshitoki sighed, "please. This happens to be Kaneki's area of expertise. If he says it was Aogiri, it was probably Aogiri. And if it was Jason… well. We better begin our planning for an offensive."

"We don't know where to strike," Ui gasped.

"I'll figure that out," Kaneki said firmly. "I can get that information, but we need to act fast. If Ya— if Jason has Mutsuki, he's not going to be safe until we get to him."

"Sir," Ui said, blinking wildly, "are we really going to commence an operation based on one investigator's capture? It seems absurd. He was just a casualty, we can't—!"

"Mutsuki Tooru is the result of our investigation of the half ghoul process," Yoshitoki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's likely Aogiri realized his value and captured him to examine how we did it. It's in our best interest to get him back as soon as possible to prevent Aogiri from producing more half ghouls."

"Also," Kaneki cut in, eying Ui accusingly, "when did the CCG ever need an excuse to attack a group of ghouls?"

Ui grimaced, clearly unhappy with the turn of events but unable to properly pinpoint why. Kaneki knew this was dangerous, like he was doing cartwheels across barbed wire over a pit of lava, but he would rather rip the skin from his bones and drape it over a clothesline than let Mutsuki share his fate at the hands of Yamori.

"Right now, our main objective has to be retrieving Mutsuki before Aogiri can replicate his existence," Yoshitoki said firmly. "However, breeching their headquarters is more than enough incentive to act on by itself. What I suggest is devising a strategy where a small squad breaks formation and infiltrates the building, exclusively looking for Mutsuki."

"We don't even know where their base is," Ui said faintly.

"That is nothing to worry about," Yoshitoki replied, waving his hand. "Information like that is simple enough to acquire if you know where to look. The problem we face is numbers and skill. We must be able to hold our ground against a stronghold, break through their ranks, and exterminate as many ghouls as we can."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Kaneki said in a low, bereft voice, "to weigh the odds in our favor."

* * *

"You are a fucking basket case!" Ayato all but threw her into a banister. Dust coughed into the air as her back bumped into it, and she pushed off it to shove him right back.

"You are a passive little lap dog," she retorted viciously, "who can't tug himself off master's leash long enough to realize he's fucking sick!"

"Oh my god," Ayato hissed. "Do you even hear yourself? Whose side are you even on?"

 _Yours_ , Touka thought desperately. "You can't just let Yamori have him after we _saved_ him!"

"An order is an order," Ayato said flatly. "Tatara gave him to Yamori, not me. Listen, just kiss that Kaneki kid goodbye. It's not even worth the trouble. He's a dove!"

"Kaneki…?" Touka's heart had plummeted, and she recalled the conversation she'd had with Kaneki only a few hours before. New quinx and new threats. Time to stay on high alert. The CCG is going to keep wanting more, and she would probably have to give up their location soon.

"Ugh. That's his _name_ dumbass. Aren't you the one who found that information?"

Touka touched her forehead, her eyes drooping tiredly. "Eto kept that little detail from me," she muttered.

"Ha." Ayato shoved her. It was… not very aggressive at all. In fact, it felt almost playful. "It's because you're so soft. If you toughened up, they'd trust you with sensitive information like that!"

"I don't believe torture is in anyone's best interest," she told him coolly.

"Well that's too fucking bad," Ayato snapped. "He's a dove. Touka." He snatched her by the shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "You fucking moron." He smacked her over the head. "He's a _dove_! He should just die."

"He's a ghoul," she gasped, shoving him away. "He's a _person_ who has done nothing wrong but exist! God! You're no better than the doves!"

Ayato's expression had crumpled so fast. It became dark, his eyes shadowing over.

She thought he was going to lash out. She expected to have to block one of his signature kicks. But instead, he just backed away very slowly.

"That's not true," he hissed. And then he ran.

She rested her back against the banister and held her forehead in her hands. What was she supposed to do? Mutsuki was going to get tortured, and she couldn't exactly help him escape without alerting everyone to her traitor status. But she couldn't live with herself knowing she was letting him get tortured.

When she had been with Kaneki, he'd gotten a phone call and sounded frantic, but she'd never imagined it would add up to this.

She wanted to save him. She wanted nothing more than to go to him and shield him from this horror.

But she _couldn't._ Not yet. She would have to wait in silence for the right opportunity— and while she waited, Mutsuki would suffer. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't what she wanted, but it was the only pragmatic option she could think of. If she let her emotions take hold, she'd just do what she had been about to do before Ayato had stopped her. Object and shout and start attacking. It was a bad idea. She knew it, Ayato knew it. Hell, Mutsuki might have even known it.

"You know," a tiny little voice sang beside her. Eto appeared from behind a pillar, draping herself over the banister and touching Touka's cheek with her small, bandaged fingers. "You shouldn't care so much about other people. They'll only hurt you, in the end."

Touka's breath hitched. She hugged her arms across her stomach, bowing her head. "You can't really believe that," she muttered.

"You can't tell me you don't," Eto laughed, her fingers scraping back, slipping into Touka's hair. She gingerly tucked Touka's bangs from her eyes, leaving Touka to shudder. "You and Ayato are alike. More alike than either of you want to admit. Am I wrong? Don't you hate the world so much that it makes you ache inside from how hollow you are?"

Touka's arms tightened around her stomach. She felt sick. _I should just go_ , she thought numbly. _Eto has no control over me. I should leave now._ But she could not manage to move. Eto's rough, bandaged fingers stroked her hair, her other hand slithering around Touka's throat and thumbing it gently.

"Maybe Tatara had the wrong idea with him," Eto whispered. "After all, there is a difference between being soft and pretending to be cruel and being cruel but pretending to be soft."

"You don't know me at all," Touka hissed.

"No?" Eto rested her chin in Touka's hair, draping her arms over her shoulders and sighing softly. "Oh, maybe you're right… I haven't got a clue what you're really like. But you know… someday somebody is going to hurt you so badly that you will never be able to extricate yourself from your hatred again. When that day comes, you should come to me. It would be easier."

Touka tore Eto's arms from around her shoulders and stumbled forward, whirling around furiously.

"What the hell is your deal?" she snapped. "Do you want me to apologize for caring about a dove? Well fuck you! He's a ghoul just like us, and I'm not exactly thrilled with the way you've been treating ghouls. You're not some almighty savior for us, you're just another monster like the doves!"

"You say that as if you are not one of us." Eto stepped up onto the banister, her tiny toes curling as she cocked her head. "Compassion won't save that boy. Compassion won't save you. Why even feel it?"

"Because I'm a person!"

"No," Eto said with a short, vicious giggle, "silly child, you are a _ghoul_. Learn the difference."

"Why did you look for the half ghoul if you were just going to throw him away?" Touka took a step forward, searching the tiny ghoul's bandaged face. "I can't fathom it. You just brought so much unneeded attention to us! Do you want the doves to come?"

"I only want what I don't have," Eto said simply. "If a pawn is useless, you let it get taken in order to advance the game."

"This isn't a game," Touka hissed. "This is somebody's life! You can't be that callous—!"

"Lives are just energy waiting to be used up, never truly reaching their full potential," Eto cut in brightly. "Isn't it more efficient to milk a life of all its potential before casting it off? This way it isn't a waste."

"You make no sense."

"You're not trying to understand," Eto giggled, dropping down. "If you'd like me to show you, I will. You have so much potential that it radiates from you." Eto brushed past, her hand cupping Touka's cheek for a moment or so. "Oh, Touka— you're just _glowing_ with all the potential you waste."

Her hand slid away, and Eto was gone before Touka could properly form another reply.

Touka found herself slumping in relief, her heart in her throat. She hadn't realized it at the time, but she felt so overwhelmed by Eto's presence that it made her sick. She pressed her hand to her chest and felt the palpitations of her heart.

This was a ghoul that could not be trusted. But Touka knew well that if she wanted to know anything, she would have to get closer to her.

It was a double edged sword. She could not gain anything without putting herself at risk.

 _Maybe I should listen to Eto_ , she thought numbly, walking up the steps and collapsing against one of the old window sills. Sunrise peeked over the horizon, and she grimaced, feeling the exhaustion settle in her bones. Where was Mutsuki now? Had the torture begun? Could she try to stop it before it began? Was any of this even worth it?

Once she rested her head against the window, sunrise dripping in her eyes, she felt sleep dragging her back into the cold clutches of her mind. So she curled up against the glass, her knees against her chest, and she let her heavy eyelids droop.

The first glimpses of a dream dance behind her eyes. She imagined the world like a jar full of paper stars, and each star held a person. The jar would shake, and the stars would shift and collide, piling upon one another, interlocking and dragging each other around and around and around. It was a pretty sight, with every paper star patterned different— oh, the patterns! The butterflies, and the checkerboards, and the galaxies…

It was like god had dropped the jar, and all the people were spilling out and screaming on their way down.

She woke up with a short gasp as she was yanked from the window, her brain kicking into alertness. The sun had sent shadows skittering across the floor, morning light too bright and white to see clearly as it filtered in through the curtains of dust.

"Fuck," she choked, rubbing her eyes and squinting at the fist wrapped tight around her bicep. It was massive and closed around half her upper arm. "Holy fuck… hey!" She jerked away from Yamori, clawing at his knuckles. "Let go of me!"

He yanked her arm sharply, almost doubling over to press his nose to her hair and hiss in her ear. "Nobody likes a spy, little Kirishima."

She froze, her struggles ceasing as those words fell upon her skin and were absorbed like rain drops. He knew. How did he know? It seemed impossible to her that this ghoul could know that she was a traitor, but here he was, accusing her. She found herself on high alert, her eyes flickering up to his fearfully. She didn't mean to betray her terror, but it was rising in her like a crest upon a wave, and it swelled the longer he had her clutched tightly in his fist.

Her whole body was forced to relax, her eyes narrowing as she lowered her chin. "What do you want?" she asked sharply.

"Come without a fuss, and I'll tell you." Yamori's lips were wormy and thin as he smirked down at her. It was a predator's smile, something that could only be meant to threaten or terrorize. She could not take him alone, that was clear, but if she had to get away from him she figured at the very least she was capable of that. So she nodded a curt, jerky nod, and rubbed her arm when he released her.

"Thanks for nothing," she muttered, glaring at him fiercely. Yamori cocked his head, his bulky frame looming over her and forcing her to feel small and insignificant. She could run now, if she really wanted to. But if she ran, then she'd be branded a traitor… and who would help Mutsuki then? Who would protect Ayato from the doves when the inevitably came?

No.

She had to follow Yamori.

So she plucked up her courage, deciding to present herself as fearless, and she followed the ghoul down the stairs and out the door. She followed him until her boots were tangling among the weeds, the birds twittering a dull lament for her fallen liberty. The cold December wind bit at her bare knuckles, and the barren black trees twisted above her like misshapen arches.

"Talk." She put a good three meters distance between them. The wind wailed between them, writhing through the awkward branches and causing the whole world to creak and bend.

Yamori plucked a low hanging branch from a tree, easily tearing the limb from its trunk. He leaned against the dark bark casually, cracking the spines of the stick. "We staked out the hospital we found the one eye in for hours," he began conversationally. "Did you know?"

"No," Touka said through gritted teeth. "Wait, are you fucking _crazy_? You attacked a _hospital?_ I didn't even know you took him from a hospital!"

"It was a perfectly calculated attack that proved useful to the cause," Yamori said, "or whatever. That was all Ayato's blabber. I didn't care much for whether or not attacking would provoke the doves or not. We both knew regardless we were going to get their attention, so why not do it in a way that would create some chaos?"

"Because it's irrational!" Touka's fury caused her shoulders to shake. Her voice was wavering, pitching on a scream. "You're just giving the CCG a better reason to hunt and kill innocent ghouls!"

"Why should you care what the doves do to lesser ghouls?" Yamori eyed her sharply, something primal and hungry in his distant gaze. "You're in league with them, after all."

"What the hell do you know about me?" Touka snapped. "I'm a ghoul just like you. Why the fuck would I be in league with _doves_?"

Yamori chuckled, thumbing the broken edge of his branch. "How should I know your motivation? You little Kirishimas elude me. Nothing you do or say makes any sense, but I can't complain. You are funny to watch." He twirled the stick thoughtlessly as she bristled and opened her mouth to shout. He was suddenly in front of her, kicking her legs out from under her. She buckled, her knees sinking into the frozen earth, and she winced from the shock of the blow. "Speaking requires more effort than you need right now. You really need only listen."

She exhaled shakily. The severity of her situation was only just beginning to hit her as he circled her slowly. Out here in this small wooded area, no one would hear her scream until it was too late. Yamori was smart about these things.

Well, he probably had to be. This seemed to be his specialty.

But Yamori being here kept his eyes away from Mutsuki for the time being. That was good enough.

"I left Ayato to follow the dove who left the hospital," Yamori said. "And you know where I found him?"

Touka didn't grace him with a response. She merely sat, her eyes narrowed fiercely.

He kicked her, and she tumbled through the leaves, dead things clinging to her hair and her sweater as she smacked against a tree and curled up in pain.

"Idiot girl," Yamori tutted. "If only you were more discreet. Honestly, what did you _think_ was going to happen? You have no friends here. Your own brother hates you more often than not."

"Are you going to torture me too?" Touka spat, rising shakily to her knees, tears prickling her eyes as she shot Yamori a disgusted glare. "Fine. Tell them all. Torture me for information. You know you won't get anything from me or the boy you stole, so why bother?"

Yamori's grin was chilling. It was the bare bones of his skull gleaming in the shafts of winter sunlight. He knelt beside her and he tapped the stick against her cheek.

"I," he tapped, "don't," he tapped, "care." He snatched her chin, forcing her to glower right into his eyes. His grin only widened, and her kagune itched beneath the skin of her shoulder blade, slithering madly as it waited for the right time to strike. "What should I care about your loyalty to this organization? I don't care enough to bother myself with something like that. So don't _worry_ , little Kirishima— you are safe from Tatara and the rest."

"But not from you." She jerked her chin back and snapped her leg up so her heel connected with his jaw. She leaped up, using his arm to bounce over him and vault toward the trees. She danced from one tree to another, using the momentum to climb and slip through the branches.

Of course she was aware of how bad this was. She had her phone on her, she could call Kaneki and skedaddle at any given moment. But something was restraining her, forcing her hand to stay fastened at her side, and it was frightening.

Did she not want to be saved?

 _Ayato will hate me_ , she thought sadly. Not that he didn't already. But they had really been getting along much better lately… and this would ruin that. She had ruined their relationship simply by returning to his side, and he didn't even know it yet.

"Oh, come _down_!" Yamori didn't sound as pissed as Touka expected him to sound. His voice only edged on the verge of irritated, as though her kick had not affected him much. It was an incredible blow to her ego. "You honestly think I'm going to tell anyone? If that were my plan, I would never have bothered with this!"

"I don't care what your plan is!" Touka shouted from the trees, her fingers brushing the rough branches, clipping against the grooves. "I don't want any part in it!"

"Then I suppose I'll just make that ghoul eat his own spleen," Yamori chuckled, turning away.

Touka had paused, her body weight resting against the trunk and her arm supporting her by gripping the branch above her. She watched him dully, her body coiling in apprehension. She was sick off her own wariness, her fight or flight instincts duking it out inside her body. Her legs were buckling, begging to be set free, to streak across the trees and send craters across the asphalt. But her knuckles were white and bloodless, and her jaw was clenched and fierce, and she could not move an inch without thinking about Mutsuki's wide, terrified eyes.

What kind of monster would she be if she left him here to die?

The sense of horror that clutched at her heart when she dropped down from the tree and landed in a crouch before him made her whole body ache. Her joints clicked and cracked in objection as she stood up slowly, her eyes betraying nothing but unadulterated hatred burning through the depths of her soul right down to her very core.

"What are you going to do to him?" She backpedaled, skidding away when he took a step toward her.

"I thought I made it clear that I was going to torture him." Yamori rolled his eyes and stuck a hand in his pocket. "What do you expect me to do? Ooh, you're such a cute little hero. What do you want? For me to 'take you instead?'" He used violently flashing air quotations, and it was hard to swallow that he was mocking her for sticking around. "If you really want to get tortured, I guess I can turn you in—!"

"Cut the shit!" Touka cried, cutting the air furiously with the flat of her hand. The cool air whistled against her fingers, the speed of her arm enough to slice a human's head in half. "You don't want to turn me in, but you clearly want _something_ from me, so just fucking tell me! I'm sick of this game."

"Game?" Yamori's eyes grew wide, and he laughed at her. He threw his head back and he covered his face. " _Game_? Little Kirishima, this is no game. All I want is for you to do everything I say, no questions asked."

Touka's flight instinct whirred inside her head and thrummed inside her chest, and her feet shuffled anxiously against the dead leaves.

"What?" she exhaled.

She knew what he'd meant, but she couldn't quite fathom it.

Do whatever Yamori said?

She might as well just go kill herself.

"Why don't you run along?" Yamori cooed, his head tilting sharply. "If I need you, I'll call for you. Until then, play nice with your brother and pretend like everything is all normal. If you can do this, then you will be able to continue spying on everyone here, and I can get what I want."

"What is it that you want?" Touka hissed, furious with herself for getting caught with Kaneki and even more furious that Kaneki had left Mutsuki to be with _her_. None of this would have happened if not for their mistake.

Yamori looked at her with his spaced out eyes bright with satisfaction. The hunger was burning there, licking the trees and setting the whole world ablaze.

"Go back to your brother, tiny Kirishima," he said. "I don't need you. Not yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ecclesia, ecclesiae.  
> greek assembly of the people.  
> church, congregation.


	25. podager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR: torture, vomiting
> 
> [m. night shyamalan voice] what a twist
> 
> anyway, this is the brunt of it. in the beginning of the story i tagged this as a fix it and then i realized i had to remove that tag bc i knew for a fact that it was a dirty fucking lie. i didn't go into this story w the intention of fixing anything. except maybe character relationships? and isn't that what really matters lmao. 
> 
> i'm genuinely not sure how this reads, since i've always been bad at judging my own writing, especially when it comes to angst and torture scenes. so i'm sorry in advance. don't feel bad about skipping it. i get it.

"Kaneki— _Kaneki_!" Amon's voice floated from some upper level, dripping down upon his head like acid rain. It burned. He raised his eyes but not he head, glancing sharply at Amon as he rushed down the steps to greet him. His mighty hand came clapping down against his shoulder. "Where have you been? We've been assigned a new mission, so you need to read up on the reports— wait."

Kaneki shrugged him off and turned away.

"Kaneki, wait. Something's happened—"

Kaneki clenched his briefcase. There was something so othering about this place. People passed him by and shot him wary glances. As though perhaps he might shed his skin right in front of them, peel away this mortal face and reveal the monster within. It could happen any time. They had every right to be wary.

" _Wait_." Amon snatched Kaneki by the arm and whirled him around. It was alarming, his strength, because he flung Kaneki about like he weighed nothing. "God damn it, what happened? Where is Mutsuki?"

Kaneki's jaw clenched from the furor that came from Mutsuki's name being uttered. He didn't know who he was angry at— oh, he was angry at so many things. He could not properly deal out the blame, because he felt all of it being directed within. Sure he was pissed at Ayato. Sure he would gladly rip Yamori apart and devour him again. Sure he could avoid Shirazu for being effectively useless. Sure he could curse Mutsuki for not being able to defend himself. But the more he thought about it, the more misguided it all seemed.

The only person he had to blame was himself.

 _He_ had chosen to go to Touka. Even though they'd agreed when this all began that it was safer to not meet. He had done it out of some impossible yearning. A selfish desire to fill up that time he'd wasted hunting a ghost of a ghost, pushing her away because he did not know how else to deal with the feeling of loss that had erupted inside him once he'd been tortured. When things hurt that bad, all he knew how to do was to put everything he loved at an arm's length. He knew how disgusting and awful he was.

What had it been that had driven him to push her away?

The primal fear of being hated.

She would see him for the filth he was— she would _recognize_ that. At the very least if she had been away from him, she could think of him and imagine someone far better. Far kinder. And if she hated him for leaving, at the very least those memories would not be tainted.

But now? Touka didn't know that boy. She would never be able to grow to care about him the way she had in another lifetime, because he could not pretend to be anything more than this husk that had been spat out by the mouth of god.

So why did he try so hard? He could not be that person, but he was still desperate for Touka's attention. There was no sense to it.

He had no sense at all, he supposed, when it came to the friends he'd lost.

Was that why he consistently attempted to sway Tsukiyama to be a good person, even when he knew it was pointless?

These thoughts had been weighing on him for over twenty four hours. He was being strangled by uncertainties, the emotions he should be feeling strangled by his doubts.

"Kaneki." It was funny to hear Amon sound so resigned. So desperate. How unfair was it, that Kaneki forgot that Amon, too, could be uncertain? "Tell me. I need to know if he's dead."

 _He would be better off dead,_ Kaneki thought numbly as he spoke. "He is alive."

The relief in this man's face made Kaneki want to deck him.

"However he was kidnapped, and is probably being tortured as we speak." Kaneki tore his arm from Amon's grasp and cast his eyes somewhere, anywhere but his face. "If the mission is about Rabbit, I already know. But Rabbit is the least of our worries."

Amon stood in silence, considering these words perhaps as though he could maybe change the truth in them. His latent rage was surfacing, pulsing in the air, and Kaneki felt it as he might feel a monsoon the morning before it hits. With dread, watching a red dawn and shivering, making preparations to board his windows later in the day.

That was how Amon's wrath felt like.

"What the hell happened?" Amon asked, fire buried deep in his clipped tone. It was rising up, lacing his words with smoke. " _How_ did this happen?"

"They were looking for me," Kaneki replied with a sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. "I wasn't there. I… fucked up, okay? I would be out there right now looking for him, but I have strict orders from Washuu Yoshitoki, and apparently I'll be severely punished if I go rogue, so…" He turned away. "Here I am. Waiting. You're free to stop me from killing someone."

"You're actually listening to orders?" The shock in Amon's tone was, admittedly, not unprovoked, but it was still enough to sting. "Who has him? If you can find him, then maybe we can—!"

"Amon, it's Aogiri." Kaneki's fists clenched at his side. He felt so… unbearably empty. Even speaking these words felt mechanical. "I'm stupid, but not that stupid. I… I _know_ I can't fight them all alone. It would be foolish to try, when it was me they wanted in the first place. I'd be doing Mutsuki no favors by getting myself captured."

"Aogiri." Amon repeated this word as though he could not quite comprehend it. "Kaneki... explain. Explain whatever you have been hiding. Explain why the Director himself is giving you orders."

"Ask him," Kaneki said coolly. "It's not my place to tell his secrets."

And then he turned away. He wanted to feel guilty for treating Amon in such a way, but he could not reach the feelings he wanted to feel, and instead felt immensely hollow. Go figure. If he could find the anger within him, he might have just run off and went to Aogiri to rescue Mutsuki himself. But he supposed that was the singular positive effect of this awful emptiness.

He did not stick around for Amon's reply, and instead spent the day thumbing through files about Jason. They were… gruesome. Kaneki read through report after report after report, and he knew— he knew he should stop somewhere between the first and the seventeenth, but something ugly inside him was squirming and pawing at his brain insistently. With every report, there was another victim who had gone through something similar to what Kaneki had gone through. There was a nagging thought inside his head, an awful suggestion that perhaps he was still here because he was stronger than all the rest, but he knew that to be false.

He was only still here because Yamori's intention had never been to kill him.

Just maim him irreparably.

In a sense, Yamori had won their little fight.

Names were falling into his head and getting lost in a field of barbed wire. He wanted to salvage them, but it was too late. For him, for them, for—

Kaneki threw the keyboard away, his chair scraping back and smashing against the floor as he held his hands over his mouth to swallow a scream. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that this was happening all over again! Fate had wriggled and writhed at the thought of losing him to this foresight, and so it plucked a worthy candidate from the masses and just set his torture right on course again.

Fate, it seemed, could not be changed.

It would realign itself no matter the dents and fissures hammered into its face.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder, and unable to keep the swell of fury within him from lashing out, he swung his fist in that direction. It whistled through the air, striking nothing, and Kaneki was caught by the arm, thrust into the air and kicked onto his back. A pair of slender little legs were wrapped around his torso, his arm bent away and a knife pressing to his throat.

Suzuya Juuzou beamed at him with soupy red eyes that were like two bowls full of blood that had been left out to coagulate for days.

"Ken," they sang sweetly, knife biting into his throat and causing blood to bead against his white collar, "got any sweets?"

Kaneki could not breathe.

He could not think.

They were scary— he had not really processed that fact until this very moment, when it actually affected him. Suzuya was terrifying, a strange mixture of childlike innocence and demonic malice. They would slit Kaneki's throat in a heartbeat, and possibly only regret it as an inconvenience. It was frightening and ugly and uncomfortable—

And Kaneki realized with a sudden wave of understanding that he had no right to judge.

He and this child were something of the same.

That, he realized sadly, was something he could see just by looking into their eyes.

"Hello, Suzuya," Kaneki said, allowing himself to relax beneath the knife. He didn't miss the spark of curiosity and twinge of confusion at crossed their round face. "No. I'm sorry. I don't have any sweets."

Suzuya studied him quietly. They sat up, untangling their legs from beneath Kaneki and pulling the knife away. "Ah," they said faintly, their lips pulling into a small grimace. "I got blood on it..."

Kaneki thumbed his neck. The cut was minor, nothing but a sliver really. It would heal fast. He sighed and let his arms collapse, spread across the floor.

"You scared me," he sighed. "What were you doing?"

Suzuya tilted their head. They opened their mouth, but said nothing. It was merely parted at Kaneki, confusion warping their soft features.

"Aren't you mad?" Suzuya waved their bloody knife around. "I cut you. Usually people get real offended about stuff like that."

"I attacked you," Kaneki pointed out. "It's… not okay, mind you. You shouldn't really go around cutting people. But I heal fast, and it wasn't unprovoked, so I can't blame you."

Suzuya sat on Kaneki's chest and stared at him for longer than expected. They looked down, examining the knife with a frown, and then humming with a shrug.

"Well, whatever!" They rolled off Kaneki, allowing Kaneki to sit up. When he touched his throat again, the cut was gone. The blood was still there, though, and still damp. "I just wanted to ask for sweets and about Mutsuki, but—"

"Did you want to know about Mutsuki?" Kaneki studied their face closely. They frowned, tapping the bloody knife to their lips and avoiding Kaneki's gaze. It was impossible to discern what they were thinking, which was probably to be expected. Suzuya Juuzou was a wild card. Kaneki would be wise to keep them in his hand.

"Mmm…" Suzuya sighed loftily, tilting their head back to look at the ceiling. "I heard the ghouls took him."

"They did."

Suzuya's head lolled. "Too bad," they murmured.

"He's not dead," Kaneki pointed out.

"Don't see why they'd keep him alive." Suzuya's hair was in their face, a mess of white strands curling along their lips and cheeks and eyes.

"Some ghouls don't need a reason."

Suzuya did not respond. They blinked languidly up at Kaneki. He saw something there, something like mild concern, but it dissipated before he could really say for sure.

"Too bad," the repeated in their sing-song drawl. Every word, every syllable, drew into another, and another, and it made something musical and pleasing to hear. If unnerving.

"You two… seemed to get along." Kaneki edged closer, offering a gentle smile. He didn't feel up to smiling, but Suzuya was a delicate case. They smiled back easily.

"You two don't talk," Suzuya observed with a giggle. "Mutsuki didn't like me much."

"I don't think that's true."

"Mm?" Suzuya closed their eyes and shrugged. "Why?"

"Because," Kaneki said firmly, "he realized you two are alike."

"Huh?" Suzuya asked flatly, their eyes narrowing.

"What? It's true." Kaneki stood up. "Maybe not so much your personalities. I guess you guys are polar opposites, which was why Mutsuki must have reacted… however he did. But you have a lot of similarities too."

"You mean Goumasa?" Suzuya asked confusedly. "That's just a bunch of wish-wash. Who cares about Goumasa?"

"Mutsuki does." Kaneki looked down at them sharply. "What that asshole did haunts him."

"Then he should have fought back."

"That's not fair," Kaneki said in a cold, biting voice, watching Suzuya match his stare. "He wasn't in any position to do that."

"So what?" Suzuya jumped bouncily to their feet, and rolled their shoulders in an elaborate shrug. "He should have. Now he regrets it. Because he couldn't fight. He still can't. Boo hoo."

"Even people who _can_ fight would have trouble in that sort of situation!" Kaneki cried.

"Boo hoo," Suzuya repeated dully, their eyes vicious and alive. "Sad little lost thing can't say no. Boo hoo. Nobody cares. Boo hoo. Nobody cries. Boo hoo. At least he was a good boy."

Kaneki stood, feeling these sing-song words dance on the edges of his nerves, heels clicking against his veins.

"Sad," Kaneki repeated in a voice that was beyond him, more than him, controlling him, "yes. But not as sad as you."

Suzuya looked at him sharply. Kaneki matched their gaze.

He whirled away and marched out of the room, wiping the blood casually from his neck.

He ended up leaving not long after in order to head to the hospital that Shirazu was still in. Dr. Shiba had confirmed that he would be fine, and luckily the wound had healed itself up nicely, but he'd also warned that Shirazu could be at risk of an overloaded RC count. Which meant, of course, he would turn into a half ghoul. He was to be monitored weekly and put on a stringent diet.

Of course Kaneki was worried— he would be a fool not to be. The idea that Shirazu might end up exactly like him was frightening, and no one deserved such a fate, but the more this quinx project was developed, the more Kaneki realized he had to face reality. Shirazu's RC count was high _hours_ after his surgery. Mutsuki was probably being tortured at this very moment, which would only heighten his ghoul senses. Kaneki couldn't protect them from the brutality of being a half ghoul.

All he wanted was to go to Aogiri's base and get Mutsuki back. It was foolish, and he knew there was zero possibility of him getting out safely, but the ideation was creeping inside his brain, begging to be realized.

Touka was not answering him. He was getting exceedingly worried.

Upon reaching the hospital, he made his way to Shirazu's room. He'd been transferred to a hospital in the twentieth ward for various reasons, including the fact that the hospital in the first ward looked like a warzone. As he entered the room, he froze.

The bed was empty.

Kaneki stood, wide eyed and sick, his mind trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle. And failing. Miserably. What? What the hell? Shirazu had not been in any condition to leave! Well, okay, physically he probably was fine, but _mentally_ —!

He whirled around and ran to the nearest desk.

"Shirazu Ginshi," he gasped. "Is he still here?"

The woman at the desk blinked up at him. "Oh," she said dully, "I remember you."

Kaneki thought about it, because he didn't recognize her, but then he realized. This was the hospital he'd had his surgery in.

"Shirazu Ginshi," he repeated, ignoring the nauseated feeling that swelled inside him. He didn't want to think about Kanou getting his hands on one of these kids.

"He checked himself out a few hours ago," the woman supplied. "Seemed pretty eager to get out— something I'm sure you'd understand."

Kaneki left her without another word.

* * *

Her phone was blowing up.

Not really, but she'd gotten at least five texts from Kaneki in the past twenty four hours, which was probably more than he'd sent her in the entire brief time they'd known each other. She felt the urge to throw the phone at the wall.

"You seem moody today," Ayato had remarked that morning.

"Do I?" she snapped, her eyes wild.

Ayato just stared at her blankly. He tossed a purple scarf over his shoulder and scrunched his nose at her. "Pathetic," he said sharply.

She hurled a shoe at him. "Go be emo somewhere else, brat!" she cried. He caught the shoe and whipped it back at her head. She had to duck to miss it.

"This is _my_ room," Ayato reminded coldly. "I don't _have_ to let you in here."

"Then I'll go sleep somewhere else!" She stood up and marched toward the door.

"You're a fucking idiot."

She kept moving.

"Jeez… Touka!" He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. She glowered down at him, her eyes brimming with fury. "The _fuck_? Nobody cares about you here. It's not safe. You can't sleep outside."

"I don't need you to protect me," she spat, wrenching her arm away. Her stomach was all coiled up in knots, because she felt like she was already dead. She was scared of Yamori, and she didn't know how to fight him, because anything she tried would make Mutsuki suffer more.

"You clearly need someone to hold you back from making awful decisions," Ayato pointed out dully. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and offered a shrug. "Listen, I hate you, but I don't want you to get fucked up just because of a dumb fight. You've been here long enough to know it just isn't safe to be on your own."

"You've been doing it for a while," she pointed out. "I think I can handle it."

"I wasn't alone, though, I had _Tatara's_ approval." Ayato cut in front of her, looking surprisingly firm and authoritative. "You still aren't important enough to warrant that kind of protection. I think they'd be fine with watching you suffer, so you should watch your back."

"I think everyone here is fine with watching each other suffer," Touka replied in a cold, dead voice. She shouldered past him roughly. "What a family you've made, Ayato. A home without comfort, a brotherhood without camaraderie, a life without love. Congratulations, little brother." She shot him a stare that could only reflect all of her disgust and exhaustion and hollowness. "You've made yourself a pauper's grave."

She left him to his own devices then, not interested in his reply. She was too pissed off to really care about his feelings.

Of course she was upset, and of course she had nothing to show for it, because she didn't know where Mutsuki was and she didn't know how to help him. She had her phone on her, if only because she feared Ayato would find it, but Kaneki texted her again, and she didn't know what to do. She had yet to even glance at any of his messages.

If she closed her eyes and focused enough, she could make all this go away. She could replace the dilapidated walls with the sunlit corridors of her high school, and she could hear laughing instead of silence tinged with some eerie note of distant screaming. Nobody talked about that. Nobody talked.

This was a place where ghouls came to make themselves expendable.

Finally, she checked her phone. What she found made her, admittedly, want to fling it into a wall and watch it shatter.

She marched back to the room, finding that Ayato had left, and began to tear through his bag. She flung his shirts and sweaters and jeans aside, watching them cough dust up into the air, and she emptied out the bag until two masks came tumbling out. One was the half mask she was used to, the black, shoddy imitation of Tatara's red muzzle.

The other was a rabbit.

Touka picked it up, her thumbs pressing into its shiny black face, wishing only to crack it in half. What the hell had he done?

"What the hell did you think you were going to find?"

She twisted around, her back to the door. Ayato was leaning against the entryway, his eyes narrowed and his expression blank. What had she expected? Not this. Not her little brother pulling on her sins like a hand me down sweater.

She stood up and tossed the mask at his feet.

"Why don't you explain," she suggested in a low voice, "why the hell you'd decide to get a mask made to imitate my old one?"

"It's not like you own the rights to rabbits, sis," Ayato scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What, you think you're the only person in the world whose favorite animal is a bunny? You're so self-involved."

"You know what I mean!" She watched him pick up the mask gingerly, his eyes cast aside. She couldn't read his expression. His gaze was narrowed, careful not to meet hers and lowered as though in fury or shame. One extreme or the other, she could not tell which. "So you want the CCG on your ass, huh? You want the attention? The name brand dove killer? Like, what the fuck were you thinking?"

"You're not using the Rabbit mantle, so why should you care?" Ayato snapped. "You killed like two doves! Big deal. I can kill more."

"This isn't a contest of who can get killed faster," Touka said coolly.

"Then maybe you should toughen up," Ayato hissed. His eyes flashed to hers, and she saw rage without end, uncontained and wild like a fire roaring. It would spread and spread and spread— and then, in the dark and the quiet, all alone in the face of its charred earth, it would die.

"You attacked a _hospital_!" Touka knew her voice sounded screechy and thin, but she was so desperate. She was thinking of all the ways he could get hurt from this— and how could she protect him without admitting to all her crimes?

Fuck this! Fuck Ayato! Fuck Aogiri!

At least that's what she wanted to feel. Fuck everything, right? Carefree and apathetic, careless and unattached. She would do anything to just feel that again, to be so removed from this problem. To think, well, it was Ayato's own fault for getting into trouble, right? If he died, who was she to care? She wasn't responsible. She'd done all she could— more, even.

But oh, was she fucking sick of letting everyone she cared about slip away.

"We had to get that one eyed bastard," Ayato muttered, stuffing his hands into his jeans. "It couldn't really be any other way. He's a dove, so I knew it was going to be hard. Did you _know_ he was a dove when you saved him?"

Touka opened her mouth to reply, but Ayato just shook his head sharply.

"I don't actually care," he snapped. "Just accept that we're _ghouls_. Nobody cares if we die, anyway. Why should I be careful when it'll all end the same?"

Touka couldn't fathom how he was so fucking stupid.

There were things, of course, that she wanted to shout at him. It was difficult to approximate how much of her feelings right now had been welling up for years, and how much was just the pure terror of knowing that he could be torn away from her and fashioned into something sick and twisted and lethal.

Something told her that the latter would happen regardless of whether Ayato was dead or alive.

How could he be so thoughtless and cruel as to believe that she didn't care?

Or maybe it just didn't matter to him that she cared. It had become far too apparent that her love just was not enough.

So she shut her mouth.

It was the first time, perhaps, that she ever felt that there were no words she could possibly say to make this right. He was so out of reach with his mentality about ghouls and humans, so hungry for something that would only cause chaos. That sort of goal, that inability to live for anything beyond this warped mindset, would only be the end of him.

You can't pry the good out of people, no matter how much you want to or how hard you try. In the end, all you can do is wait patiently and pray that you put your faith in the right person.

"Look at you," Ayato sneered. "You're fucking speechless. Nothing to say, huh? Well, good. I'm glad we had this chat."

His sarcasm was biting into her heart and gnawing at her brain.

She just stared at him.

He stared back, his brow furrowing.

What was a stare? What effect did that even have?

He was beginning to squirm under it. His face became red with rage.

"What?" he snapped. "Fucking say what you wanna say! I don't have time to stand around here all day and wait for you to spew out some bullshit!"

If she stared at him long enough, she could see the ghost of his past smiles hovering over his twisted lips. If she stared long enough, maybe he'd shrink and squall and shriek for her to be nicer, to let him play with her, to give him a hug. If she stared long enough, maybe time would bend itself for her— cease its linear movement and double back to the years where they could be together and innocent of the world's aggression.

Was this how Yomo felt?

Staring at her all the time like he was seeing a ghost?

She couldn't help but feel guilty now for wearing a face so similar to the one he'd lost.

 _Ah,_ she realized dimly. _That's what it was. I'm just a bad reminder of someone he'd rather forget_.

Like Yomo, she was beginning to watch Ayato like he was someone from a dream that had no right to exist.

"Stop looking at me like that," Ayato hissed, marching toward her. She sidestepped him and maneuvered around him easily, their places switching. Now she was in the doorway and he was furiously clutching the rabbit mask.

Touka watched him for just a moment more. She supposed her gaze was something dull and disappointed and desperate. Dead, maybe, from the hollowness that had carved itself into her chest. She was seeing double, a monster and a child, an enemy and a brother, and she couldn't find it in herself to believe that they were different beings.

She turned from him, leaving him to simmer and brood like the sad creature he was.

As she walked away, it only grew worse. This aching emptiness. Maybe she should apologize. Was that not how sibling relationships worked?

Well, not theirs.

Ayato would probably rather throw himself onto a quinque than make a half assed apology to her.

They were the same, same, same, and it killed her to know it.

She thought about Yomo again, and it made her feel sick. He had been there… for as long as she could remember. His somber face floated in the back door of their cozy home, pale hair wild from the summer breeze. He had always seemed so huge and looming to them. Their father would hug him, and he'd just stand awkwardly and take it like it was absolutely torturous.

He'd visited less and less as the years went on. Once he'd been a constant presence, and then suddenly he came once a year for their birthdays in July, bearing nothing but a grave look and an inability to look them in the eyes.

They'd never liked him much. Friend of their father's.

Uncle.

When she'd been young, she had thought he was their father's brother, but Yomo Renji was not a Kirishima, and that was evident in every possible way. Sometimes she suspected Yomo hadn't even liked their father very much, but then again, Yomo was very hard to read.

She'd done her speculating. She'd been doing it for years.

For a long time she and Ayato had just assumed he was a family friend.

Perhaps Ayato still believed that.

But she had many sleepless nights to puzzle out the meaningful looks shot at her when he thought she wasn't looking. The vacant stares that she had assumed for a very long time were from a distinct lack of interest in her existence. The long, pained gaze he often gave her when she mocked him, the way he seemed to always watch her as though he were on edge. As if she was putting him on edge.

To live with a ghost was tough work, huh?

Part of her considered the idea that maybe she would never see Yomo again.

What a sad little thought.

"Kirishima." Yamori's voice caused a knot to clench up inside her stomach. "Come here."

She'd been sitting on a windowsill again, watching snow shiver outside.

"Can't you see I'm brooding, Yamori?" she asked dully, tilting her head back at him with a disgusted glare.

He merely smiled at her.

"Come here," he repeated in a voice much more firm and commanding, like she was a dog and he was her master. It made her sick from the knot of anxiety that was continuing to tighten up inside her.

Touka's jaw clenched and her shoulders squared, but she got up slowly and made her way to his side. Obedient and resigned. Brimming with hatred that it made her whole chest tight from the burning sensation. She was sick on anxiety and rage.

"What the fuck do you want me to do?" she asked flatly.

He smiled at her, which filled her with sincere terror and discomfort, her whole body stiffening and whispering for her to run the fuck away. He took her chin and thumbed it, providing an alarming amount of pressure and jerking her face up to meet his eye.

"Smile," he told her brightly. "And don't stop until I tell you to."

His words were like flies buzzing in her ears. Numbness was pressing into her skin, and she was going to tear her own lips off before she gave him the satisfaction.

And yet, she was smiling. It was a tight, miserable thing, but she tugged her lips upward and followed him in silence.

The threat of exposure was too great, it seemed, even for her to resist.

"Remember," Yamori said, shooting her an awful look that suggested he was exploding from anticipation, "don't stop smiling, no matter what I tell you to do."

She stood outside a door on one of the upper floors of a different building. The trek had been long, leaving her to her own traitorous thoughts as the light seemed to be vanquished as the steps climbed ever higher.

There was no way. There was no fucking way she'd be able to keep doing this.

"That," she said through a strained, mocking smile, "sounds like an impossible task."

Yamori eyed her wickedly, his own expression like a jackal's hungry grin. He was just waiting patiently to tear into her, rip her apart, let her bones gnash in his teeth.

"You're a talented girl," Yamori replied, resting his hand between her shoulder blades and ushering her forward. "Impress me."

He pushed her through the door, and she made quick work of jumping forward, her feet skidding across the floor and putting as much space between herself and Yamori as possible.

Her boots squeaked against the checkered tile, and Touka wheeled back when her eyes fell on the slumped little body in the center of the room.

"No," she uttered, hearing her voice echo against the wide, vacuous room. Her shaky breath rattled against the rafters.

"Smile," Yamori reminded her, his hands clamping down on her shoulders. Mutsuki's shoulders shrugged up to his ears in a sharp recoil at the sound of his voice, the first sign of life she'd seen from him. It didn't make the knot of anxiety inside her disappear. His head lolled, shifting slowly from side to side. He was shaking it as though that might help him.

She needed to tell Kaneki where this base was. She needed the CCG to come right this minute.

"Are you going to torture me too?" Touka shrugged him off and whirled to face him. "If you wanted me to scream, all you had to do was stand there. I've got some _choice words_ —!"

He clubbed her over the head with set of giant pliers. Her feet tumbled to the side, and she caught herself quickly, her vision easily realigning and her eyes narrowing sharply.

"Hold your tongue," Yamori ordered her briskly, pointing with the pliers that grazed the tip of her nose. "And _smile_. Enjoy this. You get to be part of something I've never tried before."

Touka remembered how her life hung in the balance. How her fate was in this disgusting man's grubby hands, and how she had to beg and grovel to keep this mummer's show alive.

She closed her mouth obediently, her fingernails biting hard against her palms. Tearing him limb from limb could not even begin to sate her bloodlust.

"What I want you to do is really simple," Yamori said, reaching out and snatching her wrist. She blinked as he dropped the pliers into her hand and yanked her forward. "When I start counting down, you start cutting."

" _What_?" Touka gasped reeling back, her wrist colliding vainly with his fist, twisting her skin between his fingers. Mutsuki had looked up for the first time, and the horror in his face ignited an angry fire within her. She was sick with it, the burning anxiety and ferocity that licked from the pit of her stomach up her spine and through her skull. "No! I'm not going to—!"

Yamori bent her hand back sharply, applying as much pressure as he could without actually snapping her bone in half. She heard her own choked out cry of pain, shooting Mutsuki a worried glance. He was watching with wide eyes, his mouth parted fearfully. His face was waxy and sallow, as though he was ill or close to death. His eyes were dull, even his kakugan, both soupy and dazed in spite of being two completely different colors. His arms were tied behind his back, and his ankles were shackled together, dried blood cracking against the veins of his bare feet.

"Let me make it clearer so idiots like you can understand," Yamori said his face looming in close to hers, his wide, flat nose bumping up against hers. "If you don't do this, I will strap you down right next to him and cut you from toes to nostrils, and then I'll bring you before Tatara so he can decide what to do with your traitorous carcass."

And then he threw her onto her knees before Mutsuki's chair forcing all her senses to become quite accustomed to the damage Yamori had inflicted. She saw the way the blood folded into the grooves of his skin, and smelled the iron and the salt and the unmentionables that were likely a result of prolonged torture. It had been two days at most, and Mutsuki's clothing was already in tatters.

He watched her with pleading eyes. She held the pliers loosely in her hands, her limbs immovable all of a sudden, stuck frozen as she recognized the terror in this boy resonating throughout the room. He'd already been tortured. She saw the bucket full of toes and fingers. A bucket that was a little too full considering it hadn't even been a full forty eight hours.

"Okay, so here's how it's gonna go," Yamori said, grabbing Mutsuki's head and yanking it back by the hair. The boy winced, a breath choked down as he squeezed his eyes shut. "It'll be like a game! Me and you go back and forth counting down from a thousand by sevens. Touka, your job is to cut off a toe every time it gets to me. Ready?"

 _No_ , Touka thought, her mouth falling open and the words she wanted to shout throttling inside her throat. All that came out was a wordless cry.

"Good. Now, open your eyes. Don't make me say it again." Yamori procured a syringe from a cart full of daunting tools. Mutsuki's head jerked to the side as Yamori reached for his chin. "Fine. Get the needle stuck in your eye. I don't really care."

Touka dropped the pliers in shock as Yamori pried Mutsuki's eye open and stabbed syringe into it.

 _How do I stop this?_ she thought wildly, clamping her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. _Someone… anyone… help me… tell me what to do!_

She'd never felt this helpless in her entire life.

"Good, good, good!" Yamori's voice had raised a pitch, anticipation dripping from his tone like saliva from the maw of a rabid dog. Touka's fingers dug into her cheek, her eyes wide and teary as they darted between Yamori and Mutsuki. Mutuski's head had dropped again, his chest rising and falling heavily. Every breath he took sounded labored, as though the torture had already begun. "One thousand."

Touka sat frozen, the pliers between her knees and Mutsuki's feet. A silence stretched between them. All the noise in the world was only Mutsuki's shallow breaths, and all the thoughts in her head were begging for relief. She couldn't do it. She felt like a coward— like weak little girl too scared to draw blood. But the thought of causing this boy pain made her mind crumble, and she could not find any sense of herself in this jumble of pleas and bargains that thrashed inside her skull.

Suddenly there was real pressure on her skull, and Mutsuki's cry thudded through her ears as a foot crashed into her head and smashed into the tile, cracking it solidly beneath her scalp.

"Stop!" Mutsuki gasped, chains clanking as he lurched forward. "You can torture me yourself! Leave her alone!"

He'd already been through so much pain, and he was willing to go through more alone for her. And what was she doing? Hesitating and balking at being responsible for his pain. How selfish was that?

"It'd be so _easy_ to just crack your head open and let your brain ooze out from beneath my boot," Yamori gasped. "Too easy! I don't want to make your death quick, little Kirishima. You should get a taste of the pain you caused this boy. You should know how fragile life really is!"

His boot was digging into her cheek, applying so much pressure that she could hear her skin folding, her eardrum threatening to burst.

 _Fight, fight, fight_!

All her instincts were screaming at her, calling her a coward, a traitor to her own mind and body and heart, a disgusting excuse for a person. Self-loathing was welling up inside her and threatening to burst out from her eyes and her mouth in a waterfall of despair.

"Nine hundred and ninety three!" Mutsuki cried, the chair scraping against the tile. "Your turn!"

The pressure slowly lifted from her head, and Touka realized she was seeing stars before she realized she had blacked out for half a heartbeat. He'd really almost killed her. Her heartbeat had accelerated exponentially, leaving her breathless and shaky. It thudded hard against her ribs, thrashing and wriggling, trying so very hard to just be free.

"Nine hundred and eighty six," Yamori said. He paused. He kicked Touka, and the force caused her to roll onto her back, her spine arching in pain. She heard her own cry, her eyes wide and her vision bleary as it was cast upon the arches and the rafters of the old ceiling. The pang of her heartbeat was in line with the throbbing of her back and head. Bile had clawed up her throat.

She dragged herself upright, throwing a fierce glare at Yamori, and she took the pliers into her trembling hands. There was no good outcome to a shaky handed torturer. Mutsuki would feel more pain with her botched execution of Yamori's requests than he would have if Yamori had done it himself.

The pliers felt heavy in her hands. A human tool for a once human boy. It was unfair that he would suffer. Of all the doves in all the world, it had to be this boy.

"Remember to smile," Yamori told her.

She shot him the fiercest sneer she could manage.

Mutsuki went on softly. "Nine hundred and seventy nine." He met her eye, and all his gaze seemed to portray was frantic warning. _Torture me_ , the boy was pleading _. For your sake_.

Masochistic little shit.

She looked down, watching the pincers of the pliers wriggle his pinky toe between them. It was the smallest, so it should hurt the least… right?

When she looked up again, she found that Mutsuki had squeezed his eyes shut. His chest rose and fell heavily, his shoulders rigid, his eyelashes already damp with tears.

"Nine hundred and seventy two," Yamori said. There was a smile in his voice.

The pincers clamped shut. They made a clean cut.

The pinky toe came right off.

Mutsuki screamed.

Touka dropped the pliers and skittered back.

Her hands knotted in her hair, her palms pawing desperately at her ears to block out his screams.

 _I did that_ , she thought, her stomach clenching and turning itself inside out at the sight of the blood streaking across the tile as Mutsuki wrenched himself back. _I should cut off my own hands and give them to him, that'd be a fair trade, wouldn't it?_

She was reeling, her head spinning, her throat tightening, her hands shaking. She wanted to scream too, but she had no reason to scream— Mutsuki was the one in pain! She was just the one who had caused it.

Yamori snatched her by the front of her shirt and dragged her back.

And so it went.

Over and over and over.

Numbers and screams and the ugly sound of pliers cleaving away toes and fingers, slicing through skin and bone. By the end she was dizzy and half deaf. She flung the pliers to the ground, watching them clatter, and she stood swaying for a moment. Yamori watched her.

"Good girl," he cooed, drawing a finger down her cheek and patting it harshly. She jerked away. "I can take it from here."

She didn't want to leave Mutsuki with him. Her kagune— if she tore into him right now, just sliced his head right from his shoulders, couldn't she escape with Mutsuki and never ever come back? She could apologize a thousand times, carry him from Tokyo to the Adriatic, hold him close and promise to never let anyone hurt him again. She could do it. If it meant both of them getting away from Yamori, she would burn all of Tokyo to a smoldering crisp.

"What?" Yamori looked down his nose at her, and his stare made her want to peel her skin from her bones. "You wanna do the rest? Well, too bad. You can't have all the fun. Run along and do whatever it is you do, little traitor."

Touka shot a glance at Mutsuki, but he was not looking at her. His eyes were downcast toward his bloody feet, if they were even open at all. His hair stuck to his sweaty face in thin strings. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, his screams still ringing in her ears.

She turned on her heel and fled the room as fast as she possibly could. Which was, incidentally, incredibly fast.

It was hard to remember the time between fleeing down the steps and skidding into the bathroom, throwing herself against the sink and dry heaving. The vomit was not coming even though she begged for it. She felt so _sick_ , and she didn't even know if it was true nausea or the shock of what had just happened. Her hands still shook, and they left streaks of blood across the stained porcelain sink.

When the vomit did not come, she pounded her fist against the basin until it rattled against its pipes, the sound of metal shuddering grating inside her ears. How could she have let this happen? How could she be so fucking weak? It was such a hollowing feeling to know that you are helpless against the world and its cruelty.

 _I wish I was someone else,_ she thought, somberly flicking on the faucet and beginning to scrub. _I wish I could be human for just a little while, to see things from that innocent, wide eyed perspective, to know nothing of hunger and pain, to be painted as pure and good and whole for once_.

Red water swirled like a whirlpool, powdery and diluted as the drain gulped up Mutsuki's blood hungrily. She kept scrubbing.

 _I wish I knew what it was like to feel in control_ , she thought, the water like cold teeth against her bones. She scraped her nails against her palm and kept scrubbing. _Why? I've never felt this way about any kill before. I want to rip my skin off. I would do it gladly if it made this feeling stop, this nagging in my heart and in my head that I am so_ **wrong**.

Wishing was such a waste of time. How draining and useless this all was! She would and could wish forever to change the fabric of her DNA, to erase herself from existence, but she could never rub away who she truly was, not even with the restless clawing of her fingernails.

She scrubbed for longer than necessary. The blood was gone, but she was still scrubbing. Maybe she hoped to rid herself of Yamori's stain on her skin, or maybe she thought she could really peel her skin back. She'd only regret it after the fact, so she could not be satisfied until she saw the red, raw skin sliver and peel.

Finally this process began to really hurt. She turned off the faucet and stared at her burning hands, the skin patchy and raw in places.

A quiet sob burst up from her throat without warning. She clamped her hand over her mouth. She swallowed it down, her shoulders shaking, and she rounded on her heel, once or twice or thrice. Round and round. Pacing quick as tears welled in her eyes. She choked slightly on her closed up throat, and began to fan her eyes to get the tears to stop. Her breaths were heavy and uneven, but she couldn't care. Her whole head felt swollen and off balance.

There were innumerable trials that she could bear, but she had never felt so utterly defeated before. No fight, no grieving, no amount of suffering she'd endured amounted to this ugly tangle of loss and guilt and disgust that toiled within her.

She wanted it to cease as she wanted to cease.

Eventually she left the bathroom, finding it difficult to continue pacing, and instead trudged into her room. She was endlessly thankful that Ayato was not there when she collapsed onto her futon and curled up onto her side. Her thoughts were grains of sand twisting in the breeze, and she could not shake the sensation of _clip_ , the jolt of a finger cleaving off, and _scream_ , the ringing that had become a dull roar by the end. _Clip_ and _scream_ and then repeat.

Ayato came later— she couldn't be sure how much time had passed. It was difficult to tell because she was wallowing, and when she wallowed she let the whole world disappear, and her internalized self-loathing came spiraling out all at once, reminding her how grim and pathetic she really was.

Anyway, this could take up all of three minutes or three hours depending on how much she wanted to stare at a wall. Her back was to him, her brow furrowed as she tried to sort out the intricacies of her own goddamn mind. She knew she had to be stronger than this, that she _was_ stronger than this, but Yamori had made her feel so absolutely helpless and that feeling persisted without a sign of stopping.

She listened to her brother lie down somewhere beside her, an arm's length away. Could he hear her heart thudding? How desperate and anxious it sounded?

The silence was thick and muffling, allowing all her thoughts to scream at her as one. Shitty sounds, shitty lies. She couldn't find herself in the din.

"You awake?"

But somehow Ayato's voice _did_ find her. She heard it above all the noise that gathered like snowy televisions inside her head. She heard it through the taunting, desperate, pleading thoughts that dancing round and round and round. She heard it, and she thought, _Everything is going to be all right_.

When she didn't answer, Ayato sighed. She heard fabric shuffling. He was rolling onto his side, and his stare burned holes into her spine.

"I'm not gonna apologize," he grumbled. "Not for this. I… I mean, fuck you, honestly… you think you own the right to a rabbit mask, or whatever? I mean…" He sounded distant and unsure. Her thoughts were still doing rounds, like rabbits being chased by hounds. "You know, I knew you were gonna react like this."

That caught her attention. Her shoulders stiffened.

"So you _are_ awake. Bitch."

She didn't raise her head.

"You care too much," Ayato sighed, sounding irritated and… perhaps remorseful. "This is your own fault. I warned you. I did. This place… isn't for you. You're too soft."

 _He's right_ , she thought, a thought of a thousand thoughts. It could be dismissed for being part of that ruthless amalgam that played with her brain.

"I guess I should tell you that I had to collect intel about the One Eye," he admitted dully. "That was my mission. It may come as a shock to you, but I'm not a fan of any of this either. He's… CCG, but torturing him is worthless. He should just be executed quick and let us be done with it."

Touka must have made a noise, because Ayato scoffed.

"Don't give me that whiny bullshit. He's a dove. Doves should die. Even ghoul… doves…"

Ayato sounded less and less sure every time he spoke.

"Whatever," he muttered. "Not my place to decide, I guess. Not yours either. So quit wallowing. You can't do anything about it— god, are you even listening?"

Touka realized she was crying before she could really stop to take in that fact. Wow. Real tears. So she still could feel things after all this. Super! She was beginning to doubt, you know, after all the almost vomiting and dry sobs.

"Sis. God damn, like I know you're not sleeping. Just look at me."

All the thoughts in her head aligned in that single moment to scream at her. _Uh oh!_

"Touka? Hey. Bitch." She felt a hand on her shoulder and, instinctively, she jerked away, half skittering off her mat.

Ayato's eyes were big and white in the dark.

Then they narrowed sharply. He leaned forward and squinted at her face, forcing her to turn away sharply.

"You're crying," he observed dully.

At any other point in time she might have snapped at him, "No shit." But right now, she had forgotten how to use her tongue, and she thought that maybe she would forget forever.

"This… isn't just about that dove." Ayato frowned, leaning closer and closer until she could smell him, dirt and dust ingrained in him. "Right?"

Touka stared at him. She could feel the tears, an unstoppable force like a natural disaster, and she couldn't even muster up the courage to brush them away in shame.

"What?" Ayato snapped, his expression twisting in the shadows. "What is it? Do you really hate it here so much? Well, leave! No one's stopping you!"

Touka flinched. _I did this for you, I did it all for you, why can't you just let me be weak for a little while, I can be strong but not all the time, I can carry you for miles, but not without rest, please, just let me have a moment where I can be weak and not feel like a disappointment._

"I'm…" Touka's voice sounded like nails scraping against cement. "I'm okay."

"Bullshit!"

Touka turned her back to him and laid down. He took offense to that.

"What's all this for? What are you trying to prove? Cry baby!" He shook her shoulder. "Touka, look at me. Idiot. Stop crying. Touka. You… you won't get an apology from me, you know that? Huh? Hey. Hey, look at me!"

She shrugged off his touch and curled up into a tight ball. Tomorrow would be another day, and she would feel better, and she would feel fine, and the sun would shine again, and maybe she could believe that one tomorrow or another she would see Mutsuki's smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> podager, podagra, podagrum. [adj]  
> suffering from sore feet.


	26. musculus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for implied child abuse. 
> 
> here's a much needed break from last chapter's stuff! i'm sorry if it was a little much, i really didn't think it was that bad since everyone already knew the details of that torture? but i have difficulty understanding the impact of my own writing, i think. i just know i'm good at writing torture. 
> 
> anyway, i just want to say that i really enjoy this chapter, and had so much fun writing it. this delves more into character studies than anything else, which is probably why i was so pleased with it. i like exploring characters i've never explored before.
> 
> edit: i am aware that chie and kaneki knew each other in tg, but at the time of writing i was not. we're going to ignore that fact for the sake of this narrative carrying on. like how touka doesn't actually live above anteiku in canon. it's my fuck up, sorry guys.

The winter chill was biting into his cheeks. The jeans he wore were cuffed and faded, a giant rip at the knee and some stubborn grease stains licking up the seams. He sported a tee shirt that said something vulgar in English and a letterman jacket he'd bought for a handful of yen back in the spring at a consignment shop. He picked at his fingernails idly, listening to the patter of footfalls around him.

He had initially had the urge to walk home, but that was a bad idea.

And then he'd had the urge to go visit Haru, but that was another bad idea.

Both home (a house that was no longer his, and felt like it never had been in the first place) and Haru (a home that was no longer his, but the tired possession of some fucked up disease) were just recipes for a breakdown that he couldn't afford.

He also didn't have a key to the apartment yet, so going there was not an option. So clearly the only choice was… yeah. The Academy.

It had barely been two weeks since he left, and he was already feeling like such an outsider here that it scared him.

He was trying to shrug the blame off his shoulders, to quit bearing the load for just a little while, but he found it hard. He wasn't blameless at all. He was anything but blameless. This was a mess. Mutsuki was gone, kidnapped and likely dead, and all Shirazu had done was stare.

It was really shitty, and he knew it wasn't fair that he was blaming himself, but he couldn't help it.

His shoulder didn't hurt much anymore, but he felt out of sorts and dazed. He couldn't quite find the right word to describe his feelings, or lack-there-of, so instead he just sat on a bench and watched students bustle from one place to another.

He'd been there for about an hour. No one had stopped to talk to him. No one seemed to even notice he was there.

As he was counting off the seconds in the cold, considering his options and the amount of money he had in his pocket. It was not enough to take the train back to the apartment. It wasn't even enough for a pay phone, if he managed to find one. He was shit out of luck.

The setting sun was suddenly blotted out by a looming figure. Shirazu blinked, squinting up at the boy who had stepped in front of him. He was frowning, his fists clenched around the strap of his messenger bag, and his eyes narrowed.

"Shirazu," Urie Kuki said flatly.

"Urie," Shirazu greeted back in an equally unenthused tone.

"I heard you dropped out."

"Yeah." Shirazu rolled his shoulders, and he winced, a small hiss escaping his lips. Urie quirked an eyebrow.

"You hurt?" he asked, sounding almost actually concerned. But there was enough distance in his tone that Shirazu felt his disinterest. He liked Urie fine, but he'd always gotten a vibe that the boy didn't know how to make attachments. Which was sad.

"Fine," Shirazu laughed, rubbing the shoulder gingerly and shooting Urie a tight smile. "Just… nothing. Pulled a muscle. Um, what have people been saying? About me leaving?"

Urie watched him, his expression bemused, and he averted his gaze sharply. "Well," he sighed, "it's been… mostly assumptions. Stuff about your sister."

"What about my sister?" Shirazu asked sharply. Urie glanced at him, the corner of one of his lips turning up.

"Down boy," Urie said gently, rolling his eyes. He tentatively took a seat on the bench beside him. "Nobody is saying anything bad. They just assumed something happened with her, so you had to leave."

"Oh." Well, Shirazu felt like an ass. His whole body had coiled up in tension at the mention of Haru, and now he had to unclench every muscle. It was jarring. "Sorry, man."

"No problem." Urie didn't sound very convincing, but he had the sort of monotone voice that could say anything softly and mean anything vicious or anything sweet. "I'm sorry. About your sister."

"Yeah?" Shirazu couldn't keep the surprise from his voice, and Urie glanced at him quizzically. "I mean, thanks. Thank you."

"Right…" Urie averted his eyes again, his shoulders hunching. They sat on opposite ends of the bench, Shirazu's legs open and taking up maybe too much space, while Urie's were crossed at the knee. His body language— which Shirazu was pretty good at reading when he paid attention— suggested he was closing up. He breathed a puff of air into his gloved hands. The tip of his nose was chapped and red.

"Ya been out here for awhile?"

Urie blinked. His eyes slid sharply to Shirazu's face. Black irises hovering over spotty moles. "Not as long as you," he said curtly. Shirazu offered a grin, and Urie simply frowned. "What are you doing here, Shirazu?"

"Can't I come visit old friends?"

"There is nothing wrong with visiting friends," Urie said, staring out into the street the bench faced. "However, that is not what you're doing."

"Have you been watching me?"

"No?" Urie seemed shocked and appalled at this accusation. It caused him to bristle. "It's not hard to notice when someone doesn't leave a bench for an hour. I saw you from the classroom."

"Damn." Shirazu covered a smile with his fist and sprawled back against the bench. "Ya caught me. I'm not doing anything here. I just didn't know where else to go."

"Are you…?" Urie didn't finish his thought, which was somewhat alarming. Shirazu looked at him, but Urie had turned his face away abruptly.

"Huh?"

"My father is here." He stood up. "Nice to see you. Goodbye."

 _Well that was abrupt_ , Shirazu thought glumly, watching Urie walk to the car that had pulled up. He started to climb into the front seat, and then froze. He shook his head furiously. Then, sullenly, he got out of the car, leaving the door open and turned around, marching back up to Shirazu.

There was a frantic feeling swelling up inside him that he knew well. The sensation that, you know, you were about to get decked in the face but it was fine because you could take it.

"Get up," Urie demanded.

"What?"

"Come on." Urie folded his arms across his chest. "We'll give you a ride home."

"That's not—!"

"You try saying no to my dad," Urie cut in coolly. "It's really not up for discussion. Let's go."

Shirazu didn't know if he should be warmed or fearful.

He got up, holding his arm gingerly as he walked toward the car. It hurt from the ghost pains of his surgery and subsequent fuck up. He knew it was only flaring up because he'd bothered the wound, but whatever, he could deal. Pain was no foreign concept to him.

"Hello," Shirazu greeted sheepishly as he climbed into the back seat. Urie slammed the door shut and leaned against the window, looking bored. "Thank you very much, sir."

Urie eyed him from the front seat, a meaningful look that suggested he recognized Shirazu's effort to curb is rough dialect. It made Shirazu want to sink into his seat and disappear, frankly, but he'd never let Urie know that. So he sat up tall and smiled warmly at the elder Urie. The man who turned to look at Shirazu was unexpectedly young and not the friendliest of faces. He had a noticeable scar on his cheek that stretched over the bridge of his nose, discolored skin taut as his lips moved. He shared Urie's languid black eyes and mole beneath one, though his was singular. The way he looked, there was no doubt he was an investigator.

But Shirazu was not intimidated. He knew better to judge people by their appearances.

"You are going to catch your death," Urie Senior remarked, frowning at Shirazu. It was a concerned frown. "If you were waiting for a ride, I suggest you call them."

"I wasn't waiting for anyone, sir."

His words were cautious and measured, and both Uries watched him with dull, disbelieving gazes.

"Then you are a fool." It was said bluntly, exact and brutal in its delivery, and Shirazu flushed. The worst thing was, the man wasn't wrong. Shirazu had deliberately sat in the cold because he'd been sad and he'd wanted to wallow. Cold felt nice for once.

"What he means," Urie said dully from the passenger seat, "is that he thinks you should take better care of yourself."

"Thank you for translating, Kuki," the elder Urie sighed. "Was I not speaking Japanese?"

"You were speaking your own language," Urie replied, leaning forward and fiddling with the radio. "Not everyone can understand it, father. Oh, this is a good song."

Shirazu was surprised when Urie deliberately stopped the radio at an old, jaunty tune from a generation long past.

"This?" Older Urie wrinkled his nose. "Awful. No son of mine will listen to soft rock."

"I like it."

"Go hard or go home, kid." Urie Senior flicked the dial and Shirazu jumped when the car was filled with an alarming amount of screeching and guitars whirring. He noticed Urie immediately put in his headphones and turn away.

And then the car was moving, pulling away from the curb and gliding easily into traffic. Shirazu rested his head against the window drowsily. Not even the heavy metal could alleviate the stress and exhaustion that had piled onto him since the night past. Not even his concern for Mutsuki could keep his eyelids from drooping closed.

"Bro! Ew, are you smoking again? I'm telling dad!"

Sweet, soft, so slippery.

"Wha—Haru, no! Don't tell dad—!"

Simple, sad, so silvery.

"Let's go. Gin. Don't make me say it again. Outside."

Stark, staid, so smoky.

"I'm sorry, I— dad, no, I got the money from— wait, dad—!"

Stop, still, so spotty.

"Ya shouldn't talk, Gin. Shouldn't run your mouth."

Save, sink, so sleepy.

 _Smack_ One _Smack_ Two _Smack_ Three _Smack_ Four.

Secrets, songs, and scars.

So seemed the stars, so seemed the sky, so seemed the soul.

Sisters small and sweet and stupid to the secrets. She seemed so struck with the simplicity of sight that she never truly saw.

So?

So the secret sighed and slung a slip that surrounded and silenced and sent the secrets to the sea.

Something slammed.

Never tell, never tell, never tell.

Something opened.

Not a bad dad, a bad kid. It wasn't like he hadn't had it coming.

Something took him by the shoulder, and the pain was a phantom that lurched forward and flew through him. It jolted him awake and pried his breath from his throat, transforming it into a scream.

"Shirazu!" The voice was familiar— slow and serious, something soft beneath something shivery. He was slowly returning to the present, his eyes bulging from his head as he clutched at his hair and breathed deeply. What had happened, anyway? Was his dad gone?

"H-Haru?" Shirazu blinked rapidly, the face hovering over him becoming clearer. It struck him as familiar.

"No. Urie. Remember?"

With Urie's name, everything came flooding back, and Shirazu had the urge to vomit.

"Oh," he uttered vacantly. His dad. Yes, he was gone. Long gone.

Shirazu dragged a hand down his face, and leaned away from Urie.

"Pull yourself together," Urie warned. Shirazu blinked as Urie rolled his school sweater over his fist and rubbed Shirazu's cheek furiously. "Stop crying. It was a bad dream, and you're not a child. Crying will make you seem pathetic."

"Stop," Shirazu choked, batting Urie's scrubbing hand away. "Who cares how any of this seems? I—!" He straightened up, and he looked straight into Urie's eye. "I'm fine. Quit fussin' over me."

"Fussing?" Urie bristled, leaning back sharply. "I'm trying to save you from an interrogation! Father already is interested in you for reasons I honestly can't fathom. He's already worried. You might make him go overboard."

"Who cares?" Shirazu sniffed. "Is that so bad?"

"If you want to get psychoanalyzed," Urie said, sidestepping the car door, "be my guest."

"Is that what your dad does?" Shirazu couldn't help but smirk. "What does he got to say about you?"

"Oh," Urie sighed dramatically, slamming the car door as he pinched the bridge of his nose. " _Kuki_ , you _need_ to stop being _so_ antisocial and reclusive! Make _friends_! Kiss a girl! Or a boy! Maybe you should try to smile today, Kuki."

"That's just parenting," Shirazu laughed.

"He told me once that he was going to take me to see a therapist."

"Maybe he's just worried about you?"

"I don't think he gets," Urie said coolly, "that I like being alone."

Shirazu couldn't imagine what that must be like. It must feel so lonely, to long for solitude.

Finally he took a look at his surroundings, and he found he was nowhere he recognized. The street was narrow but clean, with rows of similar looking buildings. An apartment complex. Urie gestured for Shirazu to follow him forward, and he realized quickly that he'd been taken to the Urie family household.

"I'm sorry," Shirazu sighed. "I'm probably intrudin', right?"

"My father wants you to stay for dinner."

By the tone of Urie's voice, it was clear that his father was the only one.

Shirazu followed Urie into the building, swaying dizzily as he climbed the steps. Urie might have noticed and simply ignored him. At the landing, Urie took him by the arm and led him carefully to his door.

"Thanks," Shirazu muttered.

"You need a doctor," Urie remarked, letting him go as dramatically as though Shirazu had burst into flames.

 _I just came from a hospital_ , Shirazu thought bitterly. "I'm fine," he assured Urie with a bright smile.

"Whatever." Urie sniffed, pulling his scarf up to his nose and turning away from Shirazu sharply. He shouldered open his door. His father was leaning against a pop out counter top that was set into a wall between presumably the living room and the kitchen. It was a cozy, warm place, with black leather couches that were worn from use and minimalistic decorations.

"I see," Urie the Elder was saying into his phone. "Well, that's concerning. Hold on a moment." Urie's father placed his hand over his phone and jerked his chin at them. "Work. Kuki, why don't you show Shirazu around?"

Urie cocked his head, and he gestured vaguely with two fingers. "Living room," he said, jerking his finger toward the wall the elder Urie was sitting on, "kitchen." He waved between two doors. "Bedrooms."

"You know what I meant, Kuki."

"Yeah, I do." Urie did not look happy about it, whatever it was. "Whatever. Come on."

Urie led him away from the living room and into a pretty damn big room. There was a bed pushed up against the far wall beneath a window with white curtains. The bed was wire framed, looking old and archaic, and the blankets were all white and beaten down, as though they'd once been fluffy and warm looking but now were flat and worn. The walls were an off white shade, and there were no pictures or photographs or corkboards to be seen. There was just an armoire, a shelf with an assortment of leather bound books of various sizes and colors, a television, and an easel.

"Wow!" Shirazu exclaimed, rushing toward the painting and peering at it closely. The colors were all muted and wrong, blended together to make the scenery dull.

The canvas was torn from the easel and thrown beneath Urie's bed. His shoulders were tense and his face was flushed, and Shirazu didn't know if it was from embarrassment or anger.

"You're really good," he told Urie earnestly.

"No," Urie said flatly. "I'm not. It's just something I do when I'm bored."

Shirazu bowed his head, not sure how to continue talking to this boy. He felt guilty, and he couldn't be sure why.

"What was with your dad just now?" he asked finally, shrugging off his coat and giving it to Urie when he held out his hand.

"That was Father Speak for go away." Urie frowned, tossing the coats onto the bed and sliding onto the floor, his legs crossed. "He's always like that."

"Like what?"

"Saying things he doesn't mean."

Shirazu sat down beside him and considered telling Urie that every adult in the whole wide world was like that. Adults told half-truths and said things that were supposed to make kids feel better but instead made them feel stupid and lost.

"Do you like music?"

Urie eyed him like he was an idiot. "Duh. Why?"

"Can I see your phone?"

"Use yours."

"Don't got one, slick." Shirazu rolled his eyes. "Gimme."

Urie cautiously handed over his phone after unlocking it, and Shirazu typed a song.

Once the song started playing, Urie scoffed. "'Dreaming Girl?'" He shot Shirazu a strange look. "You like 80s pop?"

"Bro, Yukko was cute."

"And now she's very dead."

Shirazu paused the song quickly, trying to discern why the mood had changed so suddenly. He had only played this song because it was fun and he remembered singing it with Haru when they'd been younger. Urie did not openly express his discomfort, but even Shirazu could sense it. So he changed the track, moving on to something that he wouldn't be able make into something it wasn't meant to be.

As the track began to play, Urie seemed to perk up a bit.

"Cool." Urie nodded his head as the cool thrum of the music floated about the room. "English. I think I know this artist. Let me guess."

"Okay."

They continued to listen, the chords and the voice and the words that Shirazu never quite understood but appreciated spread out between them.

"David Bowie," Urie said suddenly. "'Heroes'. Right?"

Shirazu grinned. "Bravo!" He turned the phone screen so Urie could see the album cover.

"Give me another one," Urie demanded.

"English?"

"Yeah, sure. Japanese is too easy."

"Kay."

He played another song, and Urie laughed, bobbing his head along to the music. "I know this," he said. "What is this? Ah... Ei... Eir... Eire... no. Eileen. This is so obscure, how did you even find this?" When Shirazu didn't answer, Urie simply continues to bob his head, looking genuinely happy as the muffled words bubbled up between them. Shirazu liked this song because he felt like he didn't need to know what the singer was saying. It was a universal language of beats and chords and lofty vocals that boosted the mood exponentially. 

"'Come on, Eileen,'" Urie said. He was gently clapping his palm against his knee to the beat of the music.

"Damn." Shirazu grinned and turned the phone around once more. "Ya got it."

"It's not that hard. My mom liked this stuff."

Those words left an unsteady silence to shiver between them.

Urie rested his head back against his bed, his black eyes flicking up toward the ceiling. Shirazu didn't think he looked very tired or stressed, but there was something distinctly missing from him that couldn't really be placed. When Shirazu had met Mutsuki, he'd felt immediately that this was the type of boy who lost sleep chronically due to something he couldn't say. Because of their mirroring bruised, sleepy eyes, Shirazu had immediately trusted him. Urie didn't have bags beneath his eyes, but there was something severely hollow about his gaze.

"Sorry," Shirazu offered.

"Why?"

Now that was an odd question. Shirazu was taken aback, because he had only been trying to be polite and Urie had thrown it back into his face.

"Uh…" Shirazu looked away sharply. "I… I guess I get it, I mean… my ma, she died when I was young too—"

"It doesn't really matter," Urie cut in, glancing at him sharply. It was a firm warning to shut the fuck up. "Forget I said anything."

Shirazu was itching to say something, to pick at him a little more, just a little tiny bit to get even a _sliver_ more of information. But it wasn't like Shirazu couldn't tell when he needed to lay off, so he changed the subject.

"Yo," he said, "do you like movies?"

"Not really."

Shirazu felt as if someone had just sheathed a knife in his gut.

"You call yourself an artist," Shirazu gasped, "and you can't even appreciate cinematography? Fake art hoe."

"I— what?" Urie shook his head. "I never called myself an artist. I told you I wasn't good at it. Movies are too long and boring and the endings are always predictable."

"I know ya don't mean that as an insult, but I'm like, actually hella offended, man." Shirazu held his hand over his heart and pouted. "Ya know how to break a sucker's heart."

"Okay," Urie said, rolling his eyes. Shirazu didn't miss the small smirk on his lips. "Fine. Amuse me. What's your favorite movie?"

"Oh my god!" Shirazu clapped his hands over his head. "Ya expect me to choose _one_?"

"It's really not a difficult task."

"Ahhh…" Shirazu grimaced, screwing his face up in thought. "Ahhh! Shit!"

"Don't have an aneurysm trying to think," Urie remarked.

"Can I get back to you on that?" Shirazu gasped.

"Why don't you name just one of your favorites, then?" Urie offered.

"Uh… um…" Shirazu shot Urie a frantic smile. " _Some Like It Hot_?"

"Never heard of it."

"How are you even alive?"

"It's American, right?" Urie shrugged. "I never get to watching American movies."

"I don't have the movie anymore, but I'm gonna get ahold of a copy, and when I do—!"

There was a sharp knock at the door. Urie jumped, looking alarmed, and he shared a confused glance with Shirazu. He stood up and moved to open it.

Urie's father stood with his arms folded, his chin low. He looked past Urie and stared right at Shirazu, his expression unknowable.

He dragged his finger through the air, gesturing for Shirazu to come to him.

Shocked and uncertain, Shirazu got to his feet and shuffled awkwardly to Urie's side. "H-hello, sir," he said, smiling blankly.

"Let's talk alone, Shirazu."

"Uh—!" Shirazu looked at Urie desperately. The boy stood in the doorway, his mouth parted and his eyes wide, and for once his composure seemed to truly slip and lay bare the sheltered and trusting boy at his core.

"Father, what—?" Urie leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "He's only just met you, you can't expect him to—!"

"It's fine, man," Shirazu said, setting a hand gently on Urie's shoulder. He didn't want a fight to break out on his account. The elder Urie watched this exchange, and he turned his eyes away.

Urie's face told him that it was anything but fine, and Shirazu couldn't even tell why. Was it concern or jealousy that dictated his behavior? If there was one thing Shirazu had learned tonight, it was that the Uries were unknowable.

He followed the elder Urie into the kitchen, where he was sat down at a table and given a glass of water. He felt like he was about to be interrogated. Urie Senior sat beside him, his black eyes heavy with uncertainty. They were not as hollow as his son's, but there was the same vibe of listlessness in them.

"I imagine Kuki does not know about your involvement with this new project," Elder Urie began. Shirazu snatched the water and took a big gulp of it. It did nothing for his nerves. "I'd like to keep it that way."

"How do ya know he's not listening right now?" Shirazu whispered. He felt he no longer needed to hide his poor dialect.

"I don't." Urie's father closed his eyes and rested his elbow on the table, covering his lips with his hands. His words somehow did not come out muffled. "You get along well. I heard you talking, and I think he actually likes you, which makes me sad."

"Sad?" Shirazu asked incredulously.

"Sad," Urie Senior continued, his eyes sliding sharply to Shirazu's face, "because I don't want you to be around him anymore."

Shirazu bowed his head, shame and fear and guilt and despair all crashing upon him at once. What had he done to warrant this treatment? This man couldn't know of his delinquent past, could he?

But then it became abundantly clear. It was the quinx thing that made this man so uncomfortable.

"But…" Shirazu slumped, his whole body sinking into his chair. "I ain't a ghoul…"

"That's not the point." Urie Senior gently placed a hand on Shirazu's shoulder, staring intently into his eyes. "You seem like a very nice boy, so I want you to understand that I don't blame you. But what you are is dangerous, and… I was off duty when the CCG was called into the hospital, but I could have been one of the investigators that almost killed you. If it had been me in that room, I would have."

Shirazu was chilled to the bone.

"Well I'm very glad that didn't happen!" Shirazu laughed, rubbing his neck nervously. Urie Senior sighed, and he shook his head.

"Are you still hurt?" he asked. He almost sounded truly concerned, but Shirazu was reminded of Urie's words. _He's always like that. Saying things he doesn't mean_.

"No, it… it healed right up. Kinda crazy, right?"

"I was informed that you had to get an RC test to determine whether or not your surgery raised your RC count to a dangerous level." Urie glanced at him. "That is mildly concerning."

"I ain't a ghoul," Shirazu repeated faintly.

"No, but you _could_ become one _if_ you make a single misstep, and _that_ , Shirazu, is what concerns me." Urie Senior seemed to be getting right down to the point. "This is all very experimental. Be careful."

"I don't understand."

"It's safer if you stay away," Urie's father said, patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand," Shirazu repeated, sinking lower into his seat.

"I don't expect you to." Urie's father was stoic without meaning to be. It was as if he wanted to show his inner feelings but could not possibly convey the complexities that lay within him, and that offered a disconnect. Shirazu was puzzled by it all, because he had no trouble with saying what he meant and showing how he felt and being who he was.

"Mr. Urie, sir," Shirazu gasped, clamping his hands against his jeans and searching the man's face. "Urie— Kuki and I, we never talked much. I don't know why ya think it's necessary to tell me about this, I— I really don't get it! You were the one who told him to invite me here!"

The older Urie's eyes were dull and bored, as though he had heard this conversation a hundred times and could not pretend to care any longer. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said. "I brought you here because I was concerned about you. I know you're hurt right now."

Shirazu rubbed his shoulder self-consciously. Well, he certainly couldn't deny that.

"I'll be fine," he said in a clipped, level tone. "I'm built pretty solid. It'll take more than some surgery to take me out."

"Many investigators, myself included, are not particularly happy with this new development." Urie turned his face away, and he sighed. "This "quinx" surgery is dangerous, not to mention unethical. First a ghoul is authorized to be an investigator, and now this… frankly it's an uncomfortable and frightening change."

"Change is good," Shirazu said softly.

"Not always."

 _Not always_.

Shirazu was struck with a thought— an image of an apartment stripped bare of its inhabitants. Mother gone, father hanged, daughter hospitalized— and all that was left was the forgotten son. He remembered the last time he locked the front door, dropping the keys in his landlord's palm. The man had patted him on the head and said to him, "When one door closes, another opens."

He'd spent the week drifting between homeless shelters and Haru's bedside. The next week he enrolled in the Junior Academy and was given a scholarship and boarding.

What if he had found another way?

"I'm sorry," Urie's father said quietly, meeting Shirazu's gaze if only to be polite. "I don't want you to feel as if any of this is your fault. I don't blame you for choosing the path you have chosen— it's a tempting offer with handsome rewards, I imagine…" The Older Urie covered his mouth with his hands and peered away from Shirazu's face, as though avoiding his gaze might sway his thoughts onto the right track. "You must have had a difficult life until this point."

Shirazu did not reply. Truthfully, he didn't know how to. There was no polite response, and thinking about it made him sad.

"What do ya know," Shirazu asked glumly, "'bout my life?"

"The bare minimum," Urie's father said. "But I can guess the rest."

Shirazu bristled. He didn't like being judged at a glance, and he certainly didn't like that this man was trying to dictate his actions based on the fact that Shirazu was now sort of a ghoul. He didn't _understand_ the man's intentions or motivations and it made him seem offbeat and strange. Coming from the younger Urie it was fine— he understandably was standoffish and sort of a loner anyway. Teenagers, Shirazu knew, could be fickle and strange. But this man was an adult, and a vague as hell one at that.

"I'm sorry," Shirazu said. There were hot tears of rage and shame burning behind his eyes, and he couldn't find it in him to let them fall. "Next time, sir, I'll try to act a little less desperate."

Urie's father looked at him sharply. "That is not what I meant," he said cautiously.

"What _did_ ya mean?" Shirazu snapped. "Not to be rude— I really am thankful for what ya did for me today, and I won't forget it. But that doesn't mean I gotta take this bullshit you're throwing at me, like I've got some disease your son might catch!"

"If you were trying not to be rude," the man said calmly, "you did a poor job."

"I don't need ya to pity me," Shirazu said, his jaw tightening with tension as he glowered down at his clenched hands. "I'm not a sad little charity case, I— I've got other options than this. I can be… whoever I want to be… but I chose to be this."

"Perhaps you should have chosen to be something else."

" _I_ have got _nothing_ to lose," Shirazu retorted with a grin that twisted up his lips and made him feel dirty. "Hey, Mr. Urie, sir?" He said _Urie-san_ like he was spitting out a tooth. "Maybe you should've chosen a different job. It's just not _safe_ to be an investigator— oh, golly, what'll Urie do if ya end up croakin' on the job? Mr. Urie, sir, maybe ya should retire."

Much to Shirazu's surprise, the man _laughed._

"I see your point, Shirazu," the man chuckled, rubbing his nose with his knuckle and glancing away. "You… are not wrong."

Shirazu sat, gaping mouthed, and he stared.

"My job is dangerous, even for an adult like me," Urie Senior admitted, closing his eyes. "So I can't really condone using children as guinea pigs to test some half-baked theory. Your lives are more valuable than that. You children… deserve the chance to become real investigators someday. This is taking that away from you."

Shirazu closed his mouth, allowing the tension in his body to unravel. He sighed, and he shook his head. "Mr. Urie… we'll end up in the same place anyway, right?" He smiled, and this time it was genuine and bright. He felt it on his lips, and it washed him with a distinctively happy feeling. "It's fine."

"I'm sure Mutsuki Tooru would say otherwise."

Shirazu tensed once more, his stomach tying up in knots and nausea hitting him like a brick.

"What?" he blurted.

"The boy who was snatched by the Aogiri Tree," the elder Urie said, "protecting _you_. Do you imagine he's still alive?"

"Kanekun thinks he is," Shirazu uttered faintly.

Urie Senior traced the lines of the wooden table with his index finger. He raised his eyes to Shirazu. "If that's true," he said darkly, "then you should prepare for the worst."

"Kanekun thinks we can still save him," Shirazu gasped.

Urie's father smiled, and it was almost soft and fond. "You are… a very sweet boy, aren't you?"

Shirazu didn't think he needed Urie to translate his father's words.

 _You're too naïve_.

"Is it naïve to believe that I can save my friend?" Shirazu snapped.

"It's idealistic and foolish," Urie Senior said, "to believe that he isn't better off dead."

A knock at the door allowed for a pause in their heated conversation. Shirazu slumped in his seat, feeling dismayed that he had not considered this possibility. Could Mutsuki really be better off dead? No, no way! That didn't seem feasible. What could be worse than death?

He heard muffled chattering from the other room, so he stood up and stepped out of the kitchen. His eyes widened as they met the dark, frantic gaze at the door.

"Kanekun?" Shirazu asked faintly.

"Shirazu!" There was no time to process it, really, because he was being swept into an enormous embrace and nearly crushed by Kaneki's grip. Shirazu's cheek pressed to Kaneki's bony shoulder, and he thought with a warm buzzing in his heart, _Is he really hugging me right now_? "I thought—! Ah, never mind that!" Kaneki pushed him back, allowing him to stand at least an arm's length away. "You're okay, that's all that matters."

"Were you…?" Shirazu flushed, feeling his ears begin to burn from embarrassment and contentment. "Were you really that worried?"

"Is that some kind of joke?" Kaneki's expression twisted, and he looked rather hurt. "That's not funny. I already let Mutsuki get away from me. I'm not going to lose you too, okay?"

Shirazu smiled. It must have been a disbelieving smile, because Kaneki's eyes softened, and he patted Shirazu on the shoulder gently without a word.

"Kuki," the older Urie said suddenly, causing both Shirazu and Kaneki to jump. Urie was watching dully from his doorway, his dark eyes narrowed. It occurred to Shirazu that Urie recognized Kaneki from the one day they'd met at the junior academy.

"What's going on?" Urie asked casually, leaning his head against the doorframe.

"I found Shirazu a ride," the older Urie replied. Urie merely closed his eyes. "They'll be leaving now."

"I see."

"Say goodbye, Kuki."

"Bye." Urie didn't even bother looking in Shirazu's direction. He didn't so much as glance up at them as he slammed the door shut. Kaneki observed this with a frown while Shirazu flinched. He didn't want to think about how he'd spent a good portion of his day with a boy who did not seem to give a fuck whether he ever saw him again or not. It sort of hurt.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble," Kaneki said to the older Urie earnestly, gripping Shirazu's shoulder and smiling earnestly. "And thank you so much for calling me. I had half a heart attack imagining where he might be."

"It's not a problem." Urie's father folded his arms across his chest, looking at Kaneki with an inscrutable expression. Ah, the ever unreadable Uries. How fucking frustrating. "I'm sorry about my son. He doesn't like being kept in the dark about these things."

"Then why don't you just tell him what's going on?" Shirazu asked flatly.

Kaneki's grip on his shoulder tightened, but there was no warning outside of that. As though his nails digging into Shirazu's collarbone didn't serve as warning enough.

"The gift of childhood is guiltless ignorance," Urie Senior told them coolly. "Mr. Kaneki, can we continue this conversation outside?"

"Of course." Kaneki led Shirazu forward, but even as he was ushered toward the door, he couldn't help but crane his neck back. He saw Urie's door open, just a crack, and a singular black eye met his. Immediately the crack closed up, and Shirazu was pulled sharply away. He found himself standing beside Kaneki in a hallway, the lights dim and his heart heavy. "This is about me being a ghoul, isn't it?"

"Nice deduction." Urie's father pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed unable to properly look at them. Perhaps he felt guilty for what he'd said to Shirazu in the kitchen. "I know you are not responsible for this. I can't blame you for it, as much as I'd like to. I'm not that unfair, I understand when my sense of justice is skewed."

"Bravo," Kaneki said in a voice that was unfamiliar and distant. Maybe edging on sarcastic. "You're already ahead of most of the CCG. Thanks for not blaming me for being used by your organization."

"I wouldn't take it that far."

"Well," Kaneki sighed, "it's the truth. What can I say? Nobody wants to claim responsibility for the monster they unleashed. Can't blame you guys for that."

"Kanekun," Shirazu whispered urgently, snatching the man by the shoulder and squeezing it hard, as he had done moments earlier. "We should go."

"I have to agree," Urie's father said, stepping aside to allow them to leave. "I'm sorry things turned out this way."

Kaneki didn't even look at him as he brushed right on by. "Me too," he said.

Shirazu's fingers lingered in the air as he tried to figure out what had just happened. He felt like so much had gone unspoken here, and he couldn't quite fathom it. He was surrounded by unreadables, people who came and went and never showed their true faces, and that was frightening for him. He hardly ever hid what was inside him, except maybe the worst stuff.

He was struck with the thought that perhaps Urie Kuki, his father, and Kaneki were all unreadable because they _couldn't_ in good conscience show what was inside them. Maybe Shirazu was better off being illiterate here.

"Hey!" He jogged after Kaneki, shooting a hurried glance back at Urie's father before catching Kaneki by the arm. "Don't listen to that, okay? I don't think you're a monster—"

"You're wrong." Kaneki shrugged Shirazu off and marched forward. Shirazu felt the sting of this rejection, but he went along with a quick bounce to his step. "I appreciate that you care about me, Shirazu, I do. But that fact is, I _am_ a monster. I'm not a good person, and I'm not a good role model, and I don't think you should idolize me, okay?"

"Sure," Shirazu said blankly, his brow furrowing. "That's fine. I don't really care."

Kaneki looked at him sharply, his face twisted in bemusement as they continued on their way down the stairs toward the exit. Shirazu smiled vacantly.

"Listen," he sighed, ruffling his hair thoughtlessly. "I… ain't a great person either. I guess it all boils down to what we know we are and who we want to be, and that great big gap between those two. Kanekun, I don't see you as a bad person, but if you think you are then maybe you're not entirely wrong. My sis always used to say that the most brutal critic you'll ever face is yourself, 'cause you're the only one who can really judge your mistakes."

Kaneki paused, his hand resting on the doorknob, his eyes wide as he stared blankly out into the shuddery afternoon. Snow was twisting in the wind, far apart and dusty, never taking purchase on the damp ground. Kaneki turned slowly to face him, his expression one of doubt and disbelief.

"She sounds like a smart girl," he said softly.

Shirazu smiled sadly, and he found himself unable to meet Kaneki's eye. "I think she wanted to believe in people," he said slowly, "even when she knew they were the worst. Maybe that's just unconditional love, but I don't think she was wrong. Everybody deserves a little love and kindness. Even… people who've done bad things."

"I don't personally believe that," Kaneki said quietly, his head bowing, "but I… I do get what you're saying, and I respect it. I just hope it doesn't hurt you in the end."

"I ain't gonna go hug a death row inmate," Shirazu scoffed, smiling thinly. "I'm just sayin', y'know, maybe the first step to feeling better about yourself is to feel better about others, too. You've already shown your share of kindness to me, Kanekun. I can't ever repay you for that."

"It's…" Kaneki shook his head, his shoulders hunching anxiously. "It's not all that."

"Yeah," Shirazu sighed, "it _is_. Listen, I dunno what you've been through. I won't ask. Ya got your secrets, and hey, I've got mine. But that doesn't mean I can't be thankful for what you've done for me. Who you are, what you are, who you were, what you've done, it doesn't matter to me. No awful person would welcome two homeless kids into his house without a cent to show for it."

"You're misjudging me," Kaneki said faintly.

"You're misjudging yourself," Shirazu shot back.

"Okay, okay," Kaneki gasped, a short laugh seeping into his voice. "I get it. Being self-deprecating is natural to me, but you're not wrong, so I can't argue with you. I can, however, yell at you for leaving the hospital without warning."

"Yell at me?" Shirazu scoffed, a wide smirk stretching on his lips. "Why? You ain't my mom."

"After what happened to Mutsuki," Kaneki told him darkly, "I'd hope you'd use more discretion and care. Right now he's suffering because of my mistake, and I don't want you to suffer the same way."

Hearing Mutsuki's name made the knot that had been buried beneath a layer of vanity tighten. He bowed his head and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I… I didn't mean to…"

"I know you didn't," Kaneki sighed. "But please, be more careful. And tell me when you do things like this."

"That's fair enough…"

Kaneki stood for a moment, hand on the door handle and eyes cast out toward the street. And then he offered a small smile, and reached toward Shirazu, his hand stretching toward his head. Watching the hand stretch out before his eyes, Shirazu couldn't help but flinch. Kaneki's fingers faltered centimeters from Shirazu's hair, and then decidedly pulled back.

There was a sting of guilt and disappointment that turned into a dull throbbing inside his heart. Kaneki opened the door, betraying him to a gust of knifing wind, and the enchantment broke with a shudder and a blink. Kaneki Ken was kind, but he could not be a replacement for the things Shirazu had lost and the things he'd never had.

So he stepped out into the cold afternoon, starlight already glittering above them, and he reminded himself that where he came from was not where he was going.

* * *

" _Bonjour_ ," Tsukiyama greeted boldly from the other side of Anteiku as Kaneki entered the shop. Kaneki stared at him blankly. He was thankful now that he'd left Shirazu at home.

"Sorry, man." Hide smiled apologetically at him as he passed. "The dude's been asking for you nonstop. I tried to text you and warn you."

"My phone's off," Kaneki said, eyeing Tsukiyama and noting that he was sitting with a child. Her small legs were swinging idly from her chair as she pressed her nose up against the window, watching the snow fall with vibrant awe. "I just wanted to get a coffee and maybe talk to Hinami before I embarked on my journey into hell."

"Always smart." Hide lounged against the counter, his eyes undeniably bleak. Kaneki had told him about Mutsuki over the phone. They had not actually spoken in days. "How are you holding up, buddy?"

"Bad." Kaneki tapped the counter twice. "I've got to take care of something. Have your coffee making skills improved at all?"

"Koma isn't here, is he?" Hide huffed in faux offense. "I must be doing _something_ right."

"Okay, well, I'll be the judge of that. Give me a Red Eye."

"You already have one," Hide teased.

Kaneki shot him a withering glance while Hide laughed. It was almost enough. It was almost enough to make him feel something again. The hollowness in his chest shivered and writhed, bending its shape but still heavily present within him.

"Hey!" Hide snatched Kaneki by the elbow, half falling over the counter to reach him. "Listen… if you ever want to talk, I'm here. Okay?"

Kaneki wanted to say something rude, something that befit his awful mood, but Hide, like Shirazu, was only trying to help. Unlike Shirazu, Hide had done nothing wrong. So Kaneki had no right to snap at him.

"Thanks," he said. It sounded so damn dull, and he hated himself for it.

Was he avoiding Hide? Um. Yes.

To be fair, Hide hadn't made an effort to contact him either. Maybe Hide knew him too well, and understood Kaneki's need for retreat. Had it always been like this? Probably. Kaneki had never taken loss well. Kaneki never took anything well. When shit like this happened, all he wanted was to be alone.

Hide should know better than to leave him to his own devices.

But Kaneki would never admit to that.

"How did you know I was coming?" Kaneki asked, dragging a seat over to Tsukiyama's table and plopping down.

"I didn't," Tsukiyama replied. "I've been here every day for almost a week." Kaneki couldn't help but roll his eyes. "You know, it's customary when giving top secret missions to actually keep in touch with your informant. No?"

"Do you have any info I actually want?" Kaneki shot him a chilly glare. "Because otherwise you are the last person who I'm interested in talking to right now."

"Damn, Tsukiyama," the child said from her chair. She was still focusing on the window, her hands wrapped around a camera that was bigger than her face. "Why are your only friends people that don't like you?"

"Excuse me, little mouse, but are you not my friend?"

The child swiveled her camera toward Tsukiyama, and snapped a photo of him. "Point," she gasped, her little voice slipping into a childish sort of lisp.

Tsukiyama didn't seem to get what she was saying, or if he did he chose to ignore it because he merely posed. His chin rested against his hand, his eyes growing heavily lidded. The child glanced at her camera, and then turned it back towards the window.

"Ah. Chie, wait, take another picture. Chie, I wasn't ready that time!"

Kaneki sat, his eyes growing wide as he listened to Tsukiyama whine and squirm and fight vainly for the child's attention.

"Was there something you wanted?" Kaneki wished he could be more civil. He didn't remember how.

All he knew now was the sound of pliers grating, his screams ricocheting, and the numbers ticking down. All he knew was the knot of anxiety clenching his stomach, the nausea burning a hole in his heart. He saw Mutsuki's face, remembered how sweet and solemn he had been, and all the lines that traced Kaneki Ken's conscious image of himself blurred.

Who was Kaneki, who was Mutsuki?

Identity had never been his strong suit.

"I can give you whatever information you want about the ghoul restaurant," Tsukiyama said, turning his attention suddenly back to Kaneki. "This does remain anonymous, does it not?"

"I'll take the credit," Kaneki said. "I can pass it off as investigation pretty easily."

"Sounds like you're pretty talentless," Chie, the girl with the camera, piped up.

Kaneki stared at her. He thought perhaps he should act shocked or offended. But instead he tilted his head at her, and jerked his thumb her way.

"She's good," he said. "Way too smart to be hanging out with you."

"Some people don't have the same bad luck you do," Chie said softly, raising her eyes to him for the first time and blinking them innocently, "Kaneki Ken."

"So you told her about me?" Kaneki couldn't say he was surprised.

"Not at all." Tsukiyama sounded… earnestly proud. "I let her do her own snooping. My little mouse here has a nose for trouble."

"Is that what I am?"

Chie turned her camera on Kaneki and took a shot. He felt a little uncomfortable, and he wanted to ask her to delete it, but he felt there was no point.

"Nobody seeks ghouls out thinking they're in for a good time," Chie pointed out.

"You did," Tsukiyama said, smirking at her.

"I expected nothing good from you," Chie said. "Just the photo I took of you. Which to this day is still a pretty flawless shot. Kaneki!" Chie lurched forward, her eyes big. "Can I see your eyes?"

"Ah." Kaneki gently pushed her away. "No."

"Don't be impolite, Chie," Tsukiyama warned.

"She's fine," Kaneki said coolly. "It's you who has the shitty manners."

"Are you _still_ sore about me stealing your pet?" Tsukiyama sighed, and it was a dramatic, wistful little thing. "I'm trying to make it up to you! I'm even going to let you borrow mine!"

"Your what?"

"My pet!"

Kaneki stared at him. He glanced down at Chie. "Are you going to let him talk about you like that?" he asked.

"It pays the bills, man."

But Chie did not seem to bear any real resentment as she spoke, which got Kaneki thinking. _She's his Hide,_ he thought. _His Yoriko. His tether to the human world_.

He thought that was something Tsukiyama should have mentioned a long time ago. That his best friend was a human.

"What… exactly do you think I'm going to do with her?" Kaneki glanced at Chie apologetically. "No offense, but you're not exactly the ideal weapon."

"I am the best weapon you could ever ask for." Chie raised her camera and took another shot. He turned away, but he knew she'd gotten the photo she wanted. "You want the place where your friend was taken, right? I can scout out the area and give you pictures to bring to your CCG buddies."

"You're human!" Kaneki shook his head fiercely. "No. No way, I'm not involving anymore humans in this!"

"You know, you're still technically human," she reminded. "Human who eats humans, ghoul who eats ghouls, you're really no better than anyone else. I'll stay as far from the building as I can, and I'll give you the pictures tomorrow. Assuming you have the address?"

Kaneki sat in a stunned silence. Chie stared back. She raised her camera, holding it over her tiny face for a long time. Then, Kaneki sighed, and she took her shot just as his expression relaxed.

"Chie's scent is very dull," Tsukiyama said, gesturing to his nose and then rubbing it for good measure. "She's exceptionally unappetizing, and that's not just coming from me. I've tested it out, and other ghouls never really notice she's around. She's your stealth bomber of sorts."

"That's me." Chie clicked her fingers into a gun. "Bang, bang. Totally lethal."

"I really am not comfortable with putting you in harm's way," Kaneki admitted.

"I really don't care that much," Chie responded, fiddling with the settings on her camera. "Take my offer or leave it. I have other stuff to do."

"Ah, wait!" Tsukiyama's arms stretched between them, waving emphatically. "Kaneki, please consider this. Chie can give you the sort of evidence you _need_ to convince your superiors to act against this organization now, right? If you pass up this offer, you might not be able to save Mutsuki in time."

Kaneki, who was far too aware of the sensitivity of time at this point, froze up. Because it was all blurring again. The screams were at his back, and they wailed at him, they wailed for someone, anyone, please come and stop this. There were toes cleaving off, one, two, three, four, five, over and over. There was his own strained, agonized voice breathing off numbers because he wanted to stay sane.

Yeah. Because that worked out _so_ well.

"Fuck…" Kaneki closed his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands.

"See," Tsukiyama gasped, "I knew you'd come around. Just let Chie do the dirty work, and then you can whisk in like a knight in shining armor and save your precious pet."

"Call him a pet one more time," Kaneki growled, his fingernails digging into his forehead as his fingers parted to glower at Tsukiyama.

"Your friend," Chie corrected Tsukiyama bluntly. "I can keep my distance. This isn't my first rodeo with a ghoul."

"This is an entire building _swarming_ with dangerous ghouls!" Kaneki shook his head. "I… I can't…"

"I survived this guy, didn't I?" Chie jerked a thumb at Tsukiyama, her head tilted and a haughty smirk rising to her small lips. "Listen, I can handle it. Nobody will even know I'm taking pictures. It'll be fine."

"I don't believe that," Kaneki hissed.

"You have had your fair share of chances to do away with me," Tsukiyama cut in, leaning forward sharply and staring into Kaneki's eyes. "You keep saying it, but I don't think you mean it. I don't think you ever meant it. Personally, I don't think you could kill me if you wanted to."

"Don't test me, Tsukiyama," Kaneki snapped.

"I'm not trying to." The man laid his palms flat against the table. And then he flipped them, offering out to Kaneki with a brilliant smile. "Deep down, for whatever reason, you have a trust in me that you can't bring yourself to sever. You want to believe in me, or else you never would have let me live when you truly _could_ have killed me— at the restaurant, when I was weakened and injured and quite frankly very hungry, I realized something crucial. I am mortal. Mortality is something we seem to share with the humans, and I respect them for that. See, Kaneki, you trusted me when you brought me into this." Tsukiyama bowed his head. "All I'm asking is that you trust me when I say that Hori Chie can help you."

Chie eyed him, her thin shoulders hunching up to her ears as Kaneki glared at Tsukiyama. She probably could sense the vehemence, and was curious. Yes, that was it. Kaneki thought it might be fear, but that was not true. She did not fear for herself or for Tsukiyama. All she seemed to hold toward him was intense curiosity.

"Fine," Kaneki found himself saying, his heart steeling over and his stomach clenching up in familiar, nauseating anxiety. "But if she dies, Tsukiyama, this is on you. I can't protect her right now. I couldn't even protect Mutsuki."

"I'm not asking for your protection," Chie said vacantly, peering at him bemusedly. "Did I ask? No. I didn't. I don't need it. Personally, I don't want to die. So I won't."

"It's not that simple," Kaneki murmured. "There are worse things than death."

_Like living, living, living on when all you want to do is fall down into a hole six feet deep._

"Then I'll make the most of my life while I'm still here and relatively happy," Chie said simply.

"Kaneki," Hide called from the counter. "Your order's up. Do you want it for here?"

He struggled to find the right response for this small, naïve little girl, but he simply _couldn't_. Her idealism was not unwarranted. She deserved this win, because she was smart and quick witted and if this continued on Kaneki suspected she'd have a response for every concern he had.

So he stood up. "To go," he said. He glanced down at Chie. He sighed, and he pulled out his phone. "Give me your number."

Chie took his phone without a word, handing him her own in response.

When this was done, Kaneki turned away. He heard Tsukiyama whisper something, probably an urgent request to see Kaneki's number. Chie responded with a curt, "No, I think I'll hold on to this. Client confidentiality."

He really hoped that nothing bad would happen to her, but he couldn't quite bring himself to be optimistic about any of this.

"Here." He dropped a handful of yen onto the counter.

"Too much," Hide muttered, pushing the yen away. "Hey. Buddy, it's on the house."

"No way."

Hide slid the coffee toward him. "Take it and your money, or I dump it out right now and you get nothing."

"Honestly, Hide?" Kaneki rolled his eyes, and he snatched the coffee. "Fuck you."

"Love you too, bud." Hide winked, and he leaned back behind the counter. "Stay safe. Kay, bro?"

"Sure."

As Kaneki walked toward the door, he noticed something. He held his hand against the handle for a moment, trying to understand what this stark feeling of recognition was and why it was triggered now. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder. A high school student was sipping coffee, face half buried in a text book. He wore a woolen hat and a scarf, his uniform tidy and neat. He seemed utterly inconspicuous.

And then Kaneki spotted the two moles under his eye.

 _That boy,_ he thought, his eyes widening.

Urie Kuki raised his eyes to Kaneki's. But Kaneki had turned his attention back to the door and exited without a word, his thoughts lingering on the strange coincidence that had led to them crossing paths at Anteiku.

* * *

Stakeouts were, quite frankly, the most inspirational experiences. Spend hours on end alone, with nothing but a bottle full of thoughts and a clear objective, and you start to really understand the way life worked. This was why nothing seemed to faze her. She had her own special brand of meditation that brought her infinitely closer to Nirvana than anyone could really fathom.

That was probably because to Hori Chie, Nirvana wasn't a place but a feeling. And that feeling was getting _that shot_. _The_ shot. Evidently it was a little tricky. A lot tricky. It was more like a game of chance than anything else, but so was life, wasn't it?

Life was taking a shot in the dark and praying the film would develop right the next day after slaving for hours in the dark room. It was photo after photo after photo— being told that you have a keen eye, that you have promise, that you have talent, while simultaneously being compared to elementary school artistry. It's not being particularly good and not being particularly bad and doing the same thing over and over while expecting the results to be different.

Life and photography, man.

So Chie sat in her tree, swinging her legs idly as she waited for the sun to go down. She thought sunset would be the best time to take these photos. Everyone was always busy at sunset, especially this close to the winter solstice. The day had hardly really begun, and here Chie was, risking her life. But that was nothing new.

Tsukiyama had remarked that once again, Kaneki Ken was nothing like he expected. Chie reminded him that he never really gave people a chance to be unpredictable because he always made snap judgments. He had not taken to that remark kindly, as though she were wrong or something.

"Don't you think you're going a little overboard with this one?" Chie had not been looking where she'd been going on the street, and Tsukiyama had plucked her up by her underarms and placed her on his other side as a bicycle came barreling past. The bicyclist had shouted something at her as he'd passed, and Chie had halted her steps, twisting abruptly to get a shot of him streaking through a crowd of people.

"Pay more attention," Tsukiyama had chided her. "Don't make me regret signing you up for this."

"You know I can do it, so what's the problem?" Chie had peered at the screen on her camera. "Ah, that was a nice one…"

"I just think you should be more focused."

"Says the guy who gets distracted by his own reflection in windows." Chie had let her camera fall against her chest, and she'd looked up at him with a wily little smirk. He seemed irritated by this, but he tried to pull it off as smugness.

"With looks like mine, what's not to stare at?"

"I can't wait for you to get old so you look like pile of rotten fruit."

"Rude!"

They'd continued walking. Chie's boots scraped against the salt encrusted sidewalk, the path of ice melt crunching beneath her feet. The camera had bounced against her chest, thudding to the beat of her heart and the beat of her feet, and she thought that maybe Tsukiyama was hiding something, but she was too self-involved to inquire what exactly that was.

They were a good pair. He cared solely for himself, and she couldn't pretend she was much different.

Now she was wondering why she was really doing this. Was it for the sport? The thrill? The love of photography?

Or was it because her best friend had asked?

She bundled her scarf tighter around her mouth, the wind knifing against her numb cheeks. Her fingers, gloveless for the art of it, were chapped and red. Her body curled closer against the trunk of the tree as she watched the old abandoned building, the scent of brine and pine bristles stinging her nose.

Finally the sun was low enough in the sky to cast a sweet glow along the pillars and the terraces of the old buildings. Chie held her breath as the orange light raked across pasty, weathered stone. Shadows crept from one side of the terraces to another. Ghouls rested their backs and became phantoms in a solar flare. The sky was baked bloody on the horizon line, the ocean soaking the blood up and drinking it in, reflecting its heat in spite of the chill.

All her thoughts, big and small, dull and old, glinting and new, exploded from the bottle she'd tucked them into. She was totally overcome by it, by the thoughts and the emotions that she often forgot about until she reached this sublime and photographed something she'd never photographed before.

Chie stood, her boots managing to cling to the branch as she leaned closer, adjusting the focus as she took shot after shot after shot. She dropped down from one branch to a lower one, her fingers scraping the trunk, her stubby nails clawing at the grooves as she continued to take pictures, never looking away from the building. There were ghouls lounging in full red cloaks, masks visible as she zoomed in.

Amazing.

She was high on the thrill of this, her body swaying against the wind, barely upright on this flimsy branch. Her life swayed with it, life and death in the hands of chance as she snapped another photograph and let the bloody sunset reflect off her lens.

Her ears prickled, burned and numb from the chill of December winds, as the sound of soft footfalls against dead leaves brought her to the present. She tucked her camera into her coat, huddling up against the trunk of the tree and making herself as small as possible as she clung to the dark grooves. She peered down through the branches, her hair tickling her forehead and her cheeks as the wind picked up and wailed at her, toying with her hair and flinging it all around her scalp.

A boy was walking beneath the tree. His gait was casual, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He paused, his shoulders squared. His breath was visible even from where Chie was sitting.

He looked up at her tree sharply, and she saw his dull black eyes rake through the branches. Her breath caught in her chest.

But the boy pulled a face, bemused and unsure, and he shook his head. He took another few steps.

And then he was kicked to the ground.

Chie's eyes widened, but she did not make a sound. Her heart was beating furiously all of a sudden, and she felt it in her head and in her throat, and she wanted to hiss at it to shut up or else those two ghouls down there would almost certainly hear it.

The boy rolled onto to his back, gasping a bit as one ghoul rested a foot against the boy's chest. The other looked on, folding his arms across his chest.

"A human," he remarked. The one with the boot on the boy's chest nodded. "Do you suppose we should've just left him?"

"He was heading right towards us." The one standing on the boy shrugged. "I say it's only right that we apprehended him."

"It's your unlucky day, human." The other ghoul cocked his head. The sun was sinking fast and sending shadows skittering across the gnarled forest floor. Then the ghoul whirled around. "I'm going to tell Tatara and the others. Don't kill him here. We'll get an underling to take him inside."

"Right," the other ghoul agreed firmly.

Chie blinked. She sunk against the tree trunk, swallowing a lump in her throat as she took her camera and aimed it at the retreating figure. She took a picture of him. She then slipped down onto another branch, and watched the remaining ghoul through her scope.

"Damn," said the ghoul, peering down at the boy on the forest floor. "You really do have rotten luck."

A shot rang out just as Chie was moving from one branch to another, and the sudden burst of sound sent her body into a spasm of shock. She missed the branch, her nails scraping the bark, and she blinked as she found herself sailing down, smashing into branch after branch, pain spitting at her back and her arms until she was finally spat out onto the ground. Her body was now throbbing, all her thoughts back inside the bottle. They were corked up and discarded.

She sat up, blinking away stars as her vision swam and shuddered. The trees were too many and her head was all swimmy.

Suddenly fingers were caught against her sleeve, heaving her to her feet and forcing her forward.

"Run!" It was the boy who screamed in her face, his expression twisted and his black eyes wild. She saw the sweat on his brow, his hair askew and fluttering around his head in dark wisps as he dragged her into the wind. She was a little disoriented, but she found it strange that this boy was dragging her anywhere when he'd just been under a ghoul's foot a moment before.

Then she spotted the gun in his fist.

"How…?" Chie was suddenly clinging to his arm in excitement. "How did you get a _gun_? Can I hold it?"

"No!" The boy shoved her forward. "Did you not hear me say _run_? Let's go!"

"But—!" Chie glanced behind them, and her whole body froze up. Then, fearfully, she snatched the boy by the lapels of his uniform blazer and flung them both to the ground. A blue blur streaked overhead, and Chie's fingers itched at her camera, the bioluminescent limb reflecting brightly in her eyes. She missed it, though, and that revelation filled her with bitter resignation.

The boy coughed beside her. Dirt smudged his face, a small scrape on his chin starting to bleed. He flipped around and sat up, leveling the gun and aiming it at the ghoul. Chie sat up as well, breathless and shivering, her digging into the hard earth, gathering dead leaves anxiously in her small fists.

"Run," he told her. He looked undeterred, his brow furrowed and his jaw set. She noted his cold black eyes, and the two moles beneath his left one. She realized he looked familiar.

"You were at the coffee shop today…" she said softly. He glanced at her, his mask breaking for half a second and letting a little bit of his true face sneak past. This boy beside her was utterly terrified. She glanced at the gun, and she saw his fingers trembling as he gripped the gun with both hands.

Chie let out a small, short gasp of alarm as she was snatched up from beside the boy and dangled out in front of him like a doll. She recalled Tsukiyama doing something similar once. Man, her luck with ghouls.

"A little kid?" The ghoul scoffed. She stared at his mask, a blank white thing with a haphazard X over it, and she reached for her camera. "What, were you two playing hide and seek or something? Didn't your parents ever warn you against ghouls?"

Chie tilted her head. She wanted to get a good shot.

"That wasn't a bad shot," the ghoul admitted, tossing Chie aside before she could pick up her camera. Her body went rolling, her limbs folding under her as she skidded across leaves that seemed to shatter and scatter beneath her. Once more she was disappointed in herself for missing such an opportunity. So she watched the sky dully, frowning as heavy clouds hobbled over the blackening twilight. "Damn… why isn't it…?"

Chie glanced at the ghoul, and she saw that he was examining the bullet wound in his side. It was difficult to truly tell, but in the shadow of the evening there seemed to be a distinct darkness to that side of the ghoul, like an ink well had been plastered against his side. She sat up, leaves caught in her hair and sweater as she glanced around the forest floor for a path that would not betray her footfalls with frosty foliage.

"Dove bullets!" the ghoul suddenly cried, sounding vaguely dismayed but mostly furious. "You—! Ha! Children like you getting roped into doing doves' handiwork? I guess they have zero standards!"

The boy on the ground jumped up, aiming his gun at the ghoul once more at point blank. Chie couldn't help it. She pulled her camera up to her eye and seized the chance, her scope adjusting perfectly to the dim light, and her finger punching away shot after shot of this brave standoff. Gun to mask, kagune to throat. Electric blue light burned thrummed through the shadows like veins through loose skin. Every breath expelled from the boy's tightly pulled lips was a work of art in the making.

Suddenly the shadows warped and they were parted like an axe splitting wood. A silhouette rained down, snatching the gun and twisting it out of the boy's fist while throwing him to the ground. The ghoul's vibrant blue kagune swept toward the figure, which skidded aside and twirled the gun lazily.

"Having trouble?" A distinctly feminine voice leaked from the masked figure. She was visible now in the soft blue glow, her clothes all mixed and matched, a loosely knitted white sweater over an oversized black shirt over mud brown slacks over beaten, scuffed up boots. Her mask was the strangest thing of all, an elegantly crafted, muted black thing that covered her entire face, the eyeholes shaped like crescent moons pressed against a full moon. Chie wanted to take a picture of that too, but she knew that she was pushing it by staying here in this very spot, watching events unfold as though they would not inevitably harm her.

"Shit," the ghoul with the X mask swore, relaxing beside the girl. "I thought you were a dove! Make yourself known next time, got it, little one?"

"Got it," the girl said coolly. She lifted her head, her eyes flashing behind her mask as they shifted between the boy and Chie. "Heard you caught a kid. Didn't know they were doves."

"Yeah, well," the X ghoul sighed, "they are."

"Seems a little strange, don't you think?"

She walked casually as she spoke, her eyes never tearing away from the boy's. He was crouched, his body coiled with tension, and Chie saw the fear in him as she'd seen it many times before. She'd seen it in the victims that Tsukiyama had preyed upon, that she'd turned the blind eye to. She'd seen it in the eyes of rabbits caught in traps, squirming and blinking and thinking maybe they could become free by some miracle. She'd seen it in herself once or twice or one hundred times just in passing, when she wasn't quite prepared to see herself in the mirror and was surprised by what she saw.

Mice were, after all, technically vermin. Pests didn't tend to be favored or cared for except for the select few who broke the mold and decided that the ugliest, most despised of creatures could be a friend.

She sensed this boy wasn't so different from a mouse in that way. Though he certainly didn't possess the same unassuming quality of a mouse or an insect.

"What's so strange about it?" he asked in a sudden and vicious tone. "Did you ghouls honestly think you were safe from us?"

Ah. So this boy did what all liars did.

Hid in the bushes and hoped the cover would be enough, that a heel wouldn't come down and crush his head.

A snake.

Mice and snakes did not tend to get along.

 _I should leave him and his lies to die_ , she reasoned. It would be easy, and she wouldn't hold it against herself. She was that type of person. Other people didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things, because she liked living too much to let it go and all. But sometimes, like now, she would feel very guilty about this philosophy where she could watch people get devoured and walk on off on her merry way like it had been nothing.

Maybe it was because she was smart enough to deduce that this boy had followed her from the coffee shop, and would not be in such a situation if not for her.

Anyway, she was faltering, and that was bad enough on its own.

"Do you honestly think some small talk will save you?" the X ghoul countered. The girl's boots clipped lazily against the ground, stomping out leaves and crushing twigs.

"They're teenagers," the girl said, pointing the boy's gun at the boy who jerked back as she waved it heedlessly. "Look at his uniform. Look at the girl. You damn Bin brothers don't even have eyes, do you? He's playing you."

"They have to be doves," the X ghoul insisted. "How else could they have gotten their hands on that gun? Huh?"

"Um," the girl, the moon ghoul, rolled her eyes and then her head along with them, "let's see. They could have found it. Doves are human, and they are fully capable of leaving their shit somewhere. They could have synthesized it. I've hung around human kids, and some of them can be pretty crafty like that. Or they could have stolen it. I don't know, man, take your pick of an explanation."

"All those explanations are bad."

The moon ghoul, the "little one" huffed indignantly. "Well, take a look at her!" She jerked the gun at Chie, who dully watched the gun wave offhandedly at her face. "She's probably not _even_ a teenager! You really think an organization as tightly formed as the CCG would bother with such a tiny kid?"

"We do it," the X ghoul retorted. Though he focused his gaze on Chie, causing her to freeze up. _Ah_ , she thought dully. _Tsukiyama might have been right. I'm so inattentive that I got myself caught… damn. Am I… going to get eaten?_

It wasn't such a troubling thought for a girl who'd already accepted the fate of most mice.

"Believe it or not, some humans have standards," the little one said dully.

"Okay," the X ghoul admitted, turning his back to the moon ghoul and approaching Chie slowly. "So she might be a kid. But so what? The doves still—!"

Chie watched as a hole exploded through the center of the X mask, blood flying through the air and making black rain shiver against the shadowy trees. Something hot splattered against her neck and her chin and her cheek, and she stared at the hole in the ghoul's head for as long as she could, blood still seeming to spew from all directions. Her eyes were wide and her ears were ringing from the unrelenting thunderclap of a gun going off.

_Bang._

The X ghoul crumpled to his knees, and then gracelessly onto his face.

The little one stood with the gun still in her fist, her arm extended. She had raised the barrel to the back of the X ghoul's head and pulled the trigger without hesitation. When the shot had gone off, the boy on the ground had let out a cry, and then clamped his hands over his mouth to stifle it. Her eyes turned to him, and he skittered back.

Chie raised her camera. She took the shot.

"What the hell," the moon ghoul cried, her voice reaching high and clapping even louder than the thunderous crack of the gun, "have you _done_?"

And then she turned the gun against herself, pressing the barrel into her shoulder and squeezing the trigger.

 _Bang_.

Explosions were going off, fireworks in her head that sent her ears into a dull ringing shock immediately following the din. This was the sound of celebration— this was the sound of a warzone.

"No!" the boy gasped as the ghoul fell to her knees. He didn't move toward her, but Chie saw that he seemed to want to, his body swaying back and forth, torn between knowing that this girl had effectively saved them and knowing she was the enemy.

"Shit…" She chuckled dully to herself, lowering her forehead against the dirt. "You guys… should really be running."

"What the hell was that?" the boy asked, his voice heightening in disbelief. "What the hell…? Who…?"

She lifted her head. The boy was only a few centimeters away. Chie found herself standing, shifting closer and closer as the ghoul's voice grew softer and softer.

"Are you with Kaneki?" she asked urgently.

The boy's brow furrowed, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Chie cut in with a firm, "Yes." That just made the boy more puzzled.

"Then please," she said, tucking the boy's gun into her boot, "tell him this. Tell him that if he doesn't hurry, there won't be anyone left here for him to save."

The boy sat on the ground and gaped at her. Chie watched him, and she saw that he was shaking. Perhaps he'd been prepared to die here, as she'd been. But he was young— maybe even younger than she'd been when she'd met Tsukiyama. And being young and facing death was a surreal experience, to be sure.

" _Go_!" the ghoul hissed.

Chie didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him away from the ghoul, dragging him until he stumbled to his feet. He gripped her wrist as they flung themselves into the trees.

They ran, the wind knifing into their faces and slicing up their throats and leaving scars in their lungs, and they did not stop running until they skidded across the blacktop of a bridge. The boy shakily unlocked a bike from the rail and threw his leg over it.

"Hop on," he gasped.

"There aren't any pegs," Chie observed.

"You take up like two inches!" The boy's voice was breaking. He shook his head furiously. "Get on or I leave you."

Chie hopped onto the seat and wrapped her arms around his waist. He was very tense, and his bony ribs pressed harshly into the insides of her arms while she grappled to get ahold of the front of his uniform. He pedaled while standing, speeding through the streets and sweeping between cars, Tokyo's lights suddenly brightening their path and sending electric signs to lead their way. The biting chill of the winter air made her feel like her skin had been hardened into a mask, and she could remove it as easily as shaking her head. Her hair beat at her cheeks, and the longer they pedaled into the wind, the harder it seemed to breathe.

Finally, after about ten minutes of biking into the city, further and further into the crux of tangled streets and neon lights, the boy braked. He heaved deep breaths. He leaned his bike against a wall, and then leaned his body against it not long after.

"What exactly," Chie said curiously, toying with her tangled tufts of ratty brown hair, blood coming off in half-dried clumps, "did you think you were doing?"

"I just…" The boy shook his head. He brought his hands to his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, and he continued to shake it.

Chie watched him slide to the ground, his breaths shallow and thin as they fluttered like beating butterfly wings against the wail of the wind.

She sat down casually beside him.

"I'm Chie," she said in an easy, conversational voice. It was very open and ready to befriend.

"Get lost," the boy responded.

"Hey, mister," Chie chided him, tilting her head, "does your daddy know you stole his gun?"

The boy bristled, and he looked down at her sharply. His eyes were big, and his nose was red and his cheeks were flushed and his lower lip trembled.

"You can cry," Chie offered.

"I'm not crying," he snapped. "And how did you know that? Have you been spying on me?"

"Like _you_ were spying on _me_?" Chie laughed. It was a great puff in the gray swathes of faux darkness that the city tended to provide. Against her back was graffiti, bold words and funny pictures, and she thought that all the world was well because she could make small talk with a stranger with their backs up against a profane cat. "No. I was spying on the ghouls. Though, I think you already knew that."

"Then how did you…?" The boy searched her face, and once more he showed her his fear, because he couldn't help it. Because he was young, and naïve, and he was so very scared.

But he also was probably unflinchingly nerveless. Like he'd brave an entire battalion of soldiers and only bat an eye after he'd sustained sufficient enough damage and all the troops had gone on without him, so no one could see his face reflect his pain.

Snakes were funny, lonesome little creatures, weren't they?

"I figured it out," Chie said with a shrug. "You're connected to the CCG in some way, probably personally, since you recognized Kaneki's name but didn't know how to respond to that ghoul's question. Also, you had the gun on hand immediately. But you definitely aren't old enough to be an investigator. So, yeah. I guessed."

"That's—?" The boy slumped, looking away sharply so she couldn't see how impressed he was. It didn't work. She felt a surge of pride for herself. "Whatever. Call me Urie."

"Urie," Chie said thoughtfully. "Huh. So, Urie, why'd you follow me?"

"Just because."

"Bullshit."

"Well, you're so smart," Urie hissed at her, shooting her a vicious glare. "Figure it out!"

"I'd rather you just tell me." Chie smiled at him gently. "I'm deductive, not a psychic. Putting clues together is easy, but I've never been good at reading people like I can read actions. Urie, this isn't a game. You could have really gotten killed back there."

"I know that!" Urie huffed, and he yanked his knees up to his chest and buried his mouth in them. Like a child.

"Then _act_ like it." Chie stared at him, watching him avoid her gaze, avoid it like it was burning him. "You're not acting like someone who learned his lesson. You're acting like someone who's sorry he got caught."

"Like you're any better."

"I came to shoot with a camera," Chie said softly, "not a gun."

Her muddy eyes drifted away from him and toward the street where cars streaked by and lights left ghosts swimming in dust.

"The gun was just a precaution."

Chie couldn't really judge him. She'd been in his place.

She let out a loud, exasperated sigh and tilted her head back. "Damn," she mumbled, pulling her scarf up against her mouth. "Guess we're both kinda dummies, huh?"

Urie scoffed at her.

She eyed the street thoughtfully. She stood up. "I have to go," she said. She considered mooching a ride off him, but she thought that maybe she'd left him with enough trauma for the night. "You should go home."

As she started walking away he suddenly snatched her by the arm and whirled her around.

" _Wait_." He stared at her, his expression suddenly hard. The tears in his eyes had vanished, and he looked ready to pull that trigger. Too bad he'd lost his gun. "I don't want to go home."

"Your dad is going to get worried," Chie pointed out.

"He works a late shift tonight," Urie said. Chie saw him, a tower in the dark, a dull eyed stranger in the mist, and she considered him as the snake in the bush that wanted so badly to be a viper but fell meters short of the mark. "You know something about that ghoul. The one who saved us."

"Not really," Chie said.

"Do you know _why_ at least?" Urie searched her face like she could spit a nursery rhyme and he'd accept it as god's holy word. "I have to know what the hell just happened."

"We met a compassionate ghoul," Chie explained, "who risked her life to save ours. That's all it is."

"Ghouls aren't compassionate," Urie snapped. "They're monsters!"

"Without the kindness of a monster," Chie told him brightly, "you'd be very dead." She danced around him and bounced toward the bike. "You shouldn't listen to everything daddy tells you."

Urie considered this for a moment. His eyes narrowed, and he mounted his bike, his fingers white against the grips of the handlebars. His eyes slid sharply, meeting hers like a snake's unblinking vigil, and he lowered his chin.

"Tell me where to go," he said firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> musculus, musculi.  
> little mouse.  
> muscle.  
> mantelet (military term, a shield).


	27. oscen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: suicide ideations/attempt

"No, Hide, I don't want to talk about it."

Kaneki had returned home from work to find his best friend smiling gently from beside Shirazu on the couch. Shirazu was singing a different tune than yesterday, and had insisted on accompanying Kaneki to work. Kaneki had refused. Unfortunately he'd gotten an order from Amon that was effective immediately stating that if Shirazu was well enough, he had to come to work, train, and investigate.

"Can I say something?" Hide asked, standing up as Kaneki passed by him. He did not look at Kaneki, even when Kaneki stopped to stare at him. He stood with his shoulders squared and his back straight and his head high. He spoke to the door, his eyes forward, his mouth already poised for persuasion.

"I don't think I really want to hear what you have to say right now," Kaneki replied warily.

Hide's chin tilted upward. His mouth quirked into a dull smile. "Is that right?"

"Go home, Hide," Kaneki said.

Hide smiled at the door. His bright eyes slid closed, and he offered a shrug. "Fine, then," he said. "Come on, let's go, Hina."

The moment Kaneki heard _Hina-chan_ , his heart began to stutter like the small, twitching hand of a broken watch. He stared with some minor trepidation and major disbelief as Hide walked around the coffee table and lifted his hand blindly toward the kitchen door. Kaneki followed the tips of his waggling fingers and saw Hinami drifting from the ends of them, emerging quietly from the kitchen with her inky hair loose and neatly combed around her cheeks. She had a mug in her tiny fists, steam curling against her fingers as she blinked confusedly between Hide and Kaneki.

"O-oh." She set the mug down on the table, intentionally avoiding Kaneki's gaze. "Okay, big brother." She reached, and her small hand caught Hide's wriggling fingers. She held them tight, and Kaneki's throat closed up as he recollected another time, another life, when that had been _him_.

They started for the door.

"Wait!" Kaneki heard the pain in his own voice and he wanted to throw himself off the fire escape. Shirazu looked up at him, alarmed, because he likely had no memory of Kaneki using such a voice. Hide stopped at the door, casting his chin over his shoulder and watching Kaneki with dull, all knowing eyes. Like the gaze of Tiresias, glazed and glowing with all that is known and will be known. "Please… come sit back down. I…"

"I came to tell you something," Hide said carefully, still holding Hinami's hand as he turned around. "I hope you'll listen to me. I know you're in no mood to be civil, and normally I'd leave you to it, but even you can't bear something like this on your own. I know you care too much, and that you think it's your fault, and you're pushing everyone away because of it."

"Because I _do_ , and it _is_ , and—!" Kaneki gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing away from Hide's face. His breath was caught in his throat as he recognized this pattern of loneliness he'd rutted himself in. "What the hell could you know about what I'm feeling right now, Hide? You can't. You can't know. If you want an apology, you won't get one."

"I'd never ask you to apologize for feeling," Hide said calmly. Hinami stood by his side, her mouth open, her brow furrowed, and she looked so confused. Maybe even frightened. After all, she knew very little of Kaneki now but for his penchant for kindness and his careful distance. "But that doesn't mean you can huff and puff and avoid everything just because something bad happened. Mutsuki is going to need a positive influence when we get him back, and frankly this gloominess is pretty ill-fitting."

"If we manage to get Mutsuki back," Kaneki said darkly, "he's going to need more than a positive influence. He's going to need a fucking miracle."

Hide's eyes flashed, and there was an atmosphere here that was foreign to Kaneki. It was the threat of a challenge between comrades. It was Hide's easy grip on Hinami's hand, and his smile that suggested that he knew a thousand things that Kaneki didn't.

Kaneki didn't think he'd ever been truly suspicious of Hide before now.

"Don't underestimate," Hide said, "the power of the human spirit. Mutsuki is a strong kid. I think he'll pull through."

Hide's optimism burned like strings of fireworks blasted in the wrong direction. Explosions sailing sideways and not up. Sparks licking up his skin, singing his eyelashes and hair.

"Sit down," Kaneki sighed. "Tell me whatever the hell you wanted to tell me."

Hide didn't even look smug as he led Hinami back to the table. He just looked at Kaneki as though he'd never made that face that had pierced the veil of Kaneki's perception of him, and moved Hide into the realm of impossible, unknowable forces. He was there hanging over Kaneki's head with the likes of Arima Kishou, Washuu Yoshitoki, and Tatara.

That was such a frightening thought that Kaneki wanted to beat it out of his brain.

Hide took a seat on the ground while Hinami stood beside him. She eyed her cup mournfully, as though it had spilled once she'd turned her back on it. Gingerly, Kaneki scooped up the cup and offered it out to her with both hands.

"I'm sorry, Hinami," he said. He said it with everything in him, which caused her to look up into his eyes with shock and bemusement, creases folding into her brow and disbelief shining in her gaze. Because Kaneki was speaking like he would die tomorrow, his words betraying feelings he'd forgotten he'd had until he saw her humble face again. "I've been a rotten friend. Do you think you can forgive me for not visiting you?"

Like the shifting sunlight as time passed through an empty room, her face softened. She took the cup in her hands and smiled up at him warmly.

"That's not necessary," she said. "I don't blame you for anything."

Kaneki was reminded of a revelation he'd had not so long ago that demanded to be known. That his feelings toward Hinami and his feelings toward Mutsuki were intertwined— one in the same, a love of nurture, a need to protect, and an asphyxiation when none of those seemed to end on a satisfying note.

He had to sit down before he made himself dizzy from the thought of the responsibilities he'd shirked.

"Wow," Hide laughed, an easy thing that suggested everything was normal and the blind prophet eyes and persuasive smile and challenging gait had never even existed at all. "Where to start?"

"Big bro," Hinami whispered, kneeling beside Hide, "talk about the purple man."

"No," Kaneki said firmly.

Hide quirked an eyebrow. "Really?" He smiled, and cocked his head. "Not even going to consider it?"

"Hide," Kaneki sighed, "do not trust Tsukiyama Shuu."

"Tsukiyama, huh?" Hide closed his eyes and nodded. "I see."

"Hide." Kaneki smacked the table, causing both Shirazu and Hinami to jolt. Hinami had luckily set her mug down. "That guy is a vulture. He takes what he wants with zero regard for anyone else's feelings. Whatever he said to you, forget it!"

"I remember him from the bathroom," Hide said softly, cracking an eye open to glance at Kaneki. "He said he knows Mutsuki's scent. He can track it."

Shirazu, who had been rather silent until this point, balked at this. "Track?" he blurted, his eyes flitting wildly between every face in this room.

Kaneki could not dignify that with a response.

Hide didn't bother to act surprised. He turned to Shirazu, and he smiled gently. "If I told you I was a ghoul," he said with earnest eyes and a kind mouth, "would you hand me over to the CCG?"

"Huh?" Shirazu choked, jerking back in alarm. "Y-you're a ghoul? Nah! No way…!" He slapped his forehead, and his expression twisted into something pained. "No… why…? Kanekun!" Shirazu grabbed Kaneki by the bicep and shook him. "Kanekun, what's going on? Ya can't be… are ya really on the ghouls' side? All this time, have you been playin' us?"

Kaneki could feel the panic rising in him, and he shot a glare at Hide. Like, how the fuck did Hide expect him to just lay this on Shirazu without warning? He didn't know Shirazu well enough to trust him with this stuff!

"I'm not on anyone's side," Kaneki admitted, looking Shirazu in the eyes tiredly. "Technically I work for the CCG. I'll kill if they tell me to. But I do have morals. Mutsuki must not have told you, but I'll admit it. I've been locked into Cochlea twice. Once for just being a ghoul, and the other for trying to protect one." He clenched his fists, staring down at them and wondering if this absence of feeling would fade back into the ache he'd felt when he'd seen Hinami. "I just can't bring myself to believe that either sides are totally good or totally bad."

Shirazu looked at him in silence, his brow pinched and his expression drawn away.

Kaneki bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming something he'd regret.

The silence stretched between them, and Kaneki realized it would only end if he ended it.

So he said, "I told you I wasn't a good person, Shirazu."

Shirazu's expression, as Hinami's head, softened like clay. "And I told _you_ ," he said, reaching out and clapping Kaneki on the shoulder, "that you're your own toughest critic. Loosen up. I won't tattle on you for something like this."

"Something like this is genuinely very serious, and I could get into a lot of trouble if found out." Kaneki searched Shirazu's face. "In this world, having compassion is the worst possible trait you can have."

"Bullshit," Shirazu scoffed. "Y'know, where is all this shit coming from? Damn, Kanekun. Being nice doesn't require a whole list of existential crises, or whatever. It ain't that deep."

Hide barked a bright, enthusiastic laugh, and he clapped his hands together. " _Lord_ ," he gasped, "yes, thank you! Some sense! Shirazu Ginshi, I love you. Let me adopt you."

"Bro…" Shirazu laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "See, Kanekun? He's a perfectly nice person. Even if he's a ghoul. Why should I turn him in?"

"Because as of tomorrow, it's your job," Kaneki said gently. "I appreciate that you… seem to be open minded about this. But you will have to make tough decisions."

"I know how to do the right thing, Kanekun," Shirazu said firmly.

Maybe Kaneki had not considered that. That Shirazu was someone with a strong moral compass who could differentiate between right and wrong without puzzling over it for months on end. It seemed so normal and so foreign at the same time, and Kaneki recalled that he had thought him and Shirazu so very different and then so very much the same. Now he didn't know what he thought of the boy.

Such was life.

"Okay…" Kaneki turned his attention back to Hide. "What on earth were you doing with Tsukiyama, anyway?"

"He came into Anteiku," Hide replied dully, "remember?"

"Yeah, well, a lot of people come into Anteiku." Kaneki rolled his eyes. "If Touka had been there—!"

"Well," Hide interrupted in a smooth, sharp voice, "Touka _wasn't_ there. You know why?"

Kaneki clamped his mouth shut, his whole body stiffening. There was something… accusatory in Hide's tone.

Today was so different.

Today was the day that Nagachika Hideyoshi had decided that he would not enable Kaneki Ken's bad habits any longer.

It was probably about time.

"Big Bro?" Hinami asked faintly, tugging on Hide's sleeve. "What… what about big sis? Touka?"

"She's fine, Hina," Hide told her gently. "Just sorta in a tough place right now. She's strong though, she'll get through it."

"She didn't tell me where she was going," Hinami murmured, thumbing her mug thoughtfully. "You won't tell me where she went either."

"Who's Touka?" Shirazu asked vacantly, searching the three faces around him and pulling a face. "Man, I'm missin' a whole bunch of shit, huh?"

"Touka is just… a friend of ours." Kaneki shot a glance at Hide that was not so subtle, and not so kind. " _She_ wouldn't be so stupid as to listen to Tsukiyama."

"I guess she's better than both of us, then," Hide offered brightly, sounding incredibly earnest. He stared at Kaneki, and he laughed a little. "I wish you'd just do what I ask and listen for a minute. I don't care what that guy has done— right now, you shouldn't either. He's offering to help get Mutsuki back."

"What?" Shirazu blurted, jerking forward. "Who is he? How can he—?"

"He made me that same offer today," Kaneki admitted.

"And you took it, right?"

Kaneki didn't respond immediately. He looked away sharply. _Hypocrite,_ a voice in his head giggled. It was Kamishiro Rize's sweet, coiling voice that twined around his neck like slender fingers.

"The manager spoke with him," Hide said calmly. This caused Kaneki to jump. "He agreed that it is not safe for Mutsuki, who being what he is holds secrets that are dangerous for Aogiri to know, to be stuck in that place for too long. He suspects he's still alive, and is willing to go to get him—"

"No," Kaneki said.

"Yes," Hide replied, his chin lowering and his gaze holding Kaneki's. There was an abrupt serious to this expression that did not fit Hide's face. "The doves are acting too slowly. We can't rely on them to help Mutsuki."

"I'd love to just waltz right into Aogiri and take Mutsuki away, but that's not practical!" Kaneki's voice raised, his rage and sorrow shaking in it. "It won't work! Hide, what I want and what will save Mutsuki are two completely different things. Speed and stealth won't cut it with Aogiri, we need _numbers_. We _need_ the doves to cause a mess so the ghouls will be distracted, and we can get in easily. The last thing we need is Aogiri catching more prisoners."

"Then convince the doves to move _now_ rather than later. I can't do that for you." Hide looked beseeching with his brow knitted and his shoulders hunched. "You know where Mutsuki is. Don't you."

It was worded like a question but said like a statement.

Kaneki felt all eyes shift to him, the heat of them startling.

"Kanekun…?" Shirazu shifted, staring in disbelief as Kaneki bowed his head. "But… if you know where he is…!"

"I can't do anything without Washuu Yoshitoki to back me up," Kaneki said glumly. "I am, for all intents and purposes, nothing but a dog on a very short leash. I need the doves— the CCG— to believe what I say. Washuu is the only one who is capable of rallying the entire organization to my side. The worst part is that Washuu knows what I know, but can't act yet because he has to gather convincing evidence or scout out the area. He's been pretty slow on both regards. And I'm completely trapped under his thumb. I can't do _anything_. I'm not strong, not like—!" _Not like I used to be,_ he wanted to say. He remembered once being so very haughty, and he wished that that arrogance did not come at the price of his sanity.

Hide sat quietly, his eyes cast down into his lap. Kaneki didn't think he'd said enough to render Hide speechless, but there was an uneasy air about him that suggested he was no longer in a playful mood and would very much like this argument to end.

Hinami eyed Hide with interest before setting her gaze upon Kaneki. She raised her chin high. "I want to help rescue Mutsuki," she declared.

"You can't," Kaneki told her gently. "There will be doves there. You can't, Hinami."

Shirazu shifted beside Kaneki, and it was likely he'd just realized that Hinami was also a ghoul. Great.

"Even if I can't come," Hinami said firmly, "there must be _something_ I can do."

"Yoshimura wants to help," Hide said, watching Kaneki with a puzzled look. "Why won't you let him?"

Thoughts of Anteiku up in flames, dead bodies layering up and folding into an illusion of spider lilies filled his mind. He remembered the smell of it all, the smoke still burning his lungs as the decay settled in his nose. The sweet taste of Hide's blood lingering on the tip of his tongue.

"Because I care too much about Anteiku," he said quietly, drawing his hand over his eyes. "I don't want to see you all die."

"Overdramatic, no?"

"I can tell you with a certainty," Kaneki said to Hide sharply. "Call it a prophecy. If Yoshimura does this, then by the end of the year Anteiku will not be standing."

Hide and Hinami both watched him with large eyes. Even Shirazu looked perturbed, though he had no clue what was going on.

Then Hinami said softly, "Are you psychic, Kaneki?"

It was so funny to hear. Psychic? Oh, he wished.

"If I were psychic," he said with a rueful smile, "Mutsuki would still be here."

"Well," Hide said cheerfully, "if you're not psychic, you should really cool it. It's not your decision whether or not people want to risk their lives to save Mutsuki."

"Yoshimura doesn't even know Mutsuki," Kaneki snapped.

"He feels guilty about something, though," Hide said with a shrug. "I won't pretend like I understand him, but I do know he wants to go to Aogiri."

"Tell him that I said that's a terrible idea," Kaneki said. "Tell him I said that's suicide."

"Tell him yourself, man," Hide scoffed. "You know you are fully capable of going down to Anteiku and speaking to him."

"I don't think he'll listen to me," Kaneki admitted.

"Whose fault is that?"

"Hey," Shirazu gasped, "uh, Hinami, right?"

Hinami looked up at him with large eyes, blinking slowly and nodding warily.

"Do ya want to see the view from the fire escape?" Shirazu stood up and offered out his hand to her. "It's kinda cool."

"Uh…?" Hinami's brow pinched together, and then her mouth dropped upon, and she leapt to her feet. "Mm! Yeah! Sure, I will!"

She rounded Hide and snatched Shirazu by the hand. As they walked toward Mutsuki's room, where the fire escape was, Shirazu shot Kaneki a warning look. _Sort this out before we get back_ , basically. Hinami held his hand as they moved in silence away from what was certainly an uncomfortably tense discussion.

"Have we ever fought like this before?" Hide wondered aloud.

Kaneki shook his head mutely.

Hide let out a long little sigh, and he flopped back onto his hands, craning his neck up toward the ceiling. "I'm not like you," he said quietly. "I can't fight, not in the ways that really count. I've never been in a real fight before. Kaneki, is this what you really want?"

"What?" When he looked toward Hide, his eyes were cast up at the ceiling as though stars had formed out of the smooth eggshell white surface, burning through the backs of his eyes and scourging his brain.

"You told me, not so long ago, that you wanted me to be more confrontational." Hide's head lolled, and his cheek dipped against his hunched shoulder. "I told you. I told you that you wouldn't like what I had to say. It's why I don't speak up about what I think or feel. Kaneki… I don't like the person I am when I'm alone."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kaneki eyed Hide uncertainly, trying to imagine a world where Hide—the most outgoing person he knew— didn't like himself.

"I overthink things," Hide said casually. "I overanalyze. I see things in black and white. What benefits me. What doesn't. I know things have been hard lately, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that I'm prying, but at the same time I'm sorry that I didn't leave this alone. Do you… get it?" Hide blinked at Kaneki, his eyes muddy and dull from an inexplicable sadness. "Being around you is never a game of play pretend. It's just a game of forgetting."

Kaneki, who had been riled up and ready to argue until his mouth was dry, could not properly grasp what Hide was telling him. He didn't think Hide had ever talked so much about himself before, and it was jarring.

"Forget," he repeated softly. "Forget what?"

Hide smiled, and it was a pure, genuine look of amusement. He offered a silly shrug. "Ah," he laughed. "Who I am. Who I used to be. Who I'm going to be. Being around you never feels like an existential crisis."

"That's because I'm literally always in the middle of one," Kaneki snorted. "There's no room for yours."

"True."

They sat in silence, the muffled sounds of Hinami and Shirazu's conversation drifting through the open door. Kaneki could hear snippets. Little sighs and bright laughter and the breathy hiss of whispers threading through the air. They got along well. The ghoul girl and the crossbreed.

"You trust Shirazu more than I do," Kaneki said.

"Maybe." Hide said it like he didn't truly believe it, which was puzzling. "Or, maybe, I assumed you trusted him enough to give him some general information. I trust who you trust, man."

"I was getting to that." Kaneki frowned. "I still don't know him that well. With him… things aren't so simple. Mutsuki was easy, because Mutsuki… I understood him. We're similar. Too similar, maybe. But Shirazu is a different kind of person. He's more like you than me."

"Is that true?" Hide quirked an eyebrow. "Amazing."

A knock at the door caused Kaneki to jump. Hide watched him curiously, and he twisted around to glance at the door. "Who's that?" he asked.

Kaneki shrugged. He stood and made his way to it, noting that the noise in the next room had quieted down. So he took a deep breath, and he opened to door very slowly.

Before him were two small, disgruntled looking people.

It took Kaneki a moment to really process them. Then his eyes widened and he jerked back.

"What the hell?" he gasped.

Hori Chie smiled, her small face dusty with patches of dirt and stained with deep red flecks that had dried into her skin and mussed up hair and sweater. There was a clump of something in her hair that looked suspiciously meat-like. Beside her was a boy he immediately recognized, having seen him earlier that day, and he looked worse for wear than Chie. His uniform shirt was untucked and rumpled, long trails of dirt and dust drawing down its front. His blazer was equally dirty, a tear in its elbow, its lapels askew. His hair, like Chie's was completely disheveled, shot through by wind and whisked by what seemed to be a perilous experience. His face was also tongued with streaks of dirt, a very clear scrape on his chin smearing blood half-way up his cheek.

Chie ducked beneath Kaneki's arm and slipped into the room.

"Mind if I kick back?" She'd already settled on the couch.

"What the hell," Kaneki repeated, his eyes shooting wildly between Chie and Urie Kuki. "What _happened_?"

"Urie?"

From Mutsuki's doorway, Shirazu's eyes were large and glistening with a palpable concern that seemed to trump out all other emotions mingling about the room. Most of which were confusion. When Kaneki looked back at Urie, he noted how the boy had blanched, his black eyes flitting away dully.

"Come in," Kaneki told the boy.

"I shouldn't," he replied.

"We don't bite," Kaneki said earnestly. "Really. You're bleeding. I won't let you leave here without a bandage at the very least."

Urie looked down at his feet. Whatever had happened, it had… spooked him. He remembered what Shirazu had said of him earlier, that he was shy and strange, but Kaneki had not really understood that until now. Something was going on inside Urie's head, and Kaneki could not for the life of him grasp who this boy was or how he should go about this.

"Should I take Hina home?" Hide offered. Smartly, he was already fetching her things, which Kaneki realized he'd left strewn about the room before he'd decided to march out. That betrayed the truth to Hide's original actions. Of course Hide had never intended to leave. He'd known seeing Hinami would soften Kaneki's resolve and allow them to stay.

"Yeah." Kaneki rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. About everything. Let's talk more about this later."

"Sure." He flipped up Hinami's hood, zipping up her coat all the way. "It's cold out," he was saying, blocking her from the view of the door. "Bundle up, okay? You can't get sick or your mom will kill me."

Hinami had stiffened, but nodded, playing along with this lie and snatching Hide by the hand. Hide then led her past Urie, who avoided their gaze deliberately, and off they went. The silence that followed their departure set Kaneki's teeth on edge. He was not entirely certain why he felt so anxious, but seeing Urie Kuki battered and bloody did not improve his mood.

"Come in, Urie," Kaneki said. The boy stood, his eyes stretched to their furthest corners. He then bowed his head and stepped into the living room, his dirty knuckles white as bone against his forearm. His hair was unruly and tickling his cheeks, falling in great tufts against his forehead and sticking up all around the crown of his head. "Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick."

Urie stiffened. He kept his eyes drawn to the side, his bruised, bloody face drooping to the side. "I'm fine," he said thickly.

"So," Chie supplied in an enthused little voice, "you guys already know each other, then? Good, no need for introductions."

"Sit." Kaneki took Urie by the shoulder, noting how he stiffened but did not lash out. He allowed himself to be pushed toward the couch and gently sat down beside Chie. He turned his head sharply when Shirazu moved closer, head tilted, eyes wide, and giving an imploring expression that suggested he wanted to understand what was going on more than anyone else in the room. "Shirazu, would you mind grabbing a rag and a bowl filled with cold water? Put ice in it."

"Right!" Shirazu's body jerked upright, and he tripped over himself rushing to the kitchen, his socks sliding against the floor. Urie bowed his head when Kaneki focused his attention back on him.

"You followed Chie from Anteiku," Kaneki realized, his eyes flicking Urie up and down. The boy was already tense, but upon hearing Kaneki's words he went absolutely rigid. "Didn't you?"

Urie did not respond. He closed his eyes, the line of his jaw becoming sharply prominent as he clenched it.

"You ran into the ghouls of Aogiri," Kaneki said, lowering his head so his voice became a slithering hiss inside Urie's ear, "didn't you?"

Urie's lips pressed into a thin line. He shied away, his face turning into his shoulder sharply.

"Maybe," Chie suggested brightly, "you shouldn't antagonize the kid who's had his first brush with death, hm? Not everyone is as comfortable with the idea as you are, Ken."

Kaneki pulled back, reeling himself in and finding it difficult to properly douse his rage. This stupid boy had gotten himself into trouble— probably tipped off Aogiri about Chie being there, and now they would be on high alert when the CCG came. This slip up could easily be on Mutsuki's head, a reason to place misguided blame on his tiny shoulders.

"If you were spotted," Kaneki said, watching Chie smile through the freckles of blood, "how the hell are you still alive?"

"I told you," Chie said coolly, "I'm very good at my job."

Urie scoffed.

It was the first thing he'd done since arriving that suggested that he wasn't utterly traumatized.

Kaneki glanced between them. Very slowly, he drew himself to the table, and sat down so he faced both of them at a close range, his eyes slicing from one face to the other. Small, cheery, blood flecked Chie, and sullen, dull eyed, battered Urie, they were both watching a place beyond Kaneki's face that seemed unreachable.

"Someone is dead," he clarified.

"Yes." Chie shrugged. "Some ghoul. He had a bright blue tail kagune. Um, what's the tail kagune called?"

"Bikaku," Urie supplied for her in his strange, monotone voice.

Kaneki focused on him. Urie continued to avoid his gaze.

"Your father isn't going to be happy," he said, "when he finds out about this."

"Are you going to tell him?" For the first time, Urie raised his eyes. To Kaneki's surprise, his gaze matched the intensity of Kaneki's, and even sought to challenge it. "You don't even know why I went there."

"Maybe you just wanted the thrill of the hunt." Kaneki tilted his head. "Isn't that the flaw in all ghoul investigators? Enjoying the job a little too much might begin before you even hit graduation."

"Says the ghoul investigator," Urie retorted. He jerked his chin up sharply, an action that did not go without a wince. "You overestimate my pride. I have no problem admitting that I followed Chie because I wanted to prove something to my father. But that's the extent. I can't imagine taking any pleasure in killing someone. As a ghoul, I can see why you'd have that misconception."

"Easy," Chie chided Urie, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't forget, it's a ghoul that saved us."

"I'll draft a note of gratitude when she gives me the gun back," Urie said glumly.

Their words struck him like defibrillators jumpstarting a heart and seizing him back into life.

"A ghoul?" He could not keep the eagerness from his tone, he realized as he caught both their gazes by the threads of their suspicion. "What ghoul?"

Chie pulled her camera, unwinding a strap from her neck, and flicking through pictures. Shirazu appeared with the bowl full of water and ice chips, and he knelt beside Urie, submerging the rag and wringing it tightly. Urie eyed him with a frown.

"It was just a ghoul," he said, batting Shirazu's hand away when he tried to apply the damp rag to Urie's chin. "She was just… I don't know. She took my gun from me. She talked to the other ghoul like they were friends."

"Describe the other ghoul."

"There were two other ghouls," Chie said, thumbing through her pictures lazily. "They basically wore the same outfit and mask, but the symbols on the masks were different."

It took Kaneki a moment to register what that meant.

"The Bin Brothers," he said quietly, memories resurfacing coolly like the ice chips that bobbed joylessly at the surface of the bowl Shirazu had procured.

Urie met his eye with a mixture of suspicion and recognition, lidding heavily and then widening sharply. Then, he nodded slowly. "Yes," he admitted. "That's what she called them. How did you—?"

"You're working with them," Chie observed.

"No," Kaneki replied icily, shooting her a look that dared her to repeat that statement. "Just her. Just the ghoul that saved you. Do you have a picture of her?"

Chie turned the camera to him, and he took it in his hands, ignoring the disbelieving, distrustful looks shot his way by both Urie _and_ Shirazu.

It was not without sting. Kaneki held the camera, and he reminded himself that Urie's father was an investigator, and this could all get very bad, very quickly.

And in his hands was a photograph of Touka, masked and dangerous, arm extended in a straight, perfect line with a gun slicing off the end of it. He recognized the ornate lines of the eyes of her mask, the moons that closed over her eyes as if eclipsing stars. He knew her by her body language, and he knew by this photograph that she had not taken what she'd done lightly in spite of her unflinching stance. Taking that gun had been on impulse. Shooting the Bin Brother had been on impulse.

She was just too compassionate. Too trusting.

She loved humans too much.

"She said to hurry," Chie offered. "If that means anything to you. Hurry, or you won't be able to save anyone. I suppose she means Mutsuki?"

"That sounds an awful lot like a threat," Shirazu said darkly.

"It wasn't," Kaneki sighed, dragging his hand down his face. "It was a warning."

"Ouch!" Urie jerked away as Shirazu dabbed his chin with the rag. "Damn it, Shirazu!"

"Just let me clean the goddamn cut," Shirazu gasped, throwing his hands out, the rag clenched tightly in one fist. "Have ya ever even been in a real fight before?"

"I'm top in the class—!"

"A _real_ fight!" Shirazu's voice was clear, biting, and unwavering. "Not a fuckin' sparring match. Nobody in sparring matches fight with their gut. Not even you— _yeah_ , Urie, I know how brutal ya supposedly are. Everybody knows. I always wanted to fight ya, see if ya were all ya were cracked up to be."

"You still can," Urie told him icily, glowering at Shirazu's face as though he were some piece of scum beneath his foot.

"Ya couldn't beat me in a real fight."

"Oh really?"

"Enough," Kaneki cut in, his voice suggesting they'd both be wise to listen closely lest they lose a limb. "Urie, tell me the real reason you decided to follow Chie while Shirazu cleans that cut."

"It's just a scrape," Urie said. The tremor in his voice suggested that tiny scrape with its great smear of blood that stretched from chin to cheekbone was symbolic of a how naïve he was.

"Unless you want your father interrogating you," Kaneki suggested, "be my guest."

Urie clamped his mouth shut, his eyes glazing over in a cold fury that Kaneki found genuinely curious, as he probably really meant it. This was not the sort of boy Kaneki would willingly trust with his secrets, but Hori Chie had dragged him into this.

No. Urie had been in this for a while now.

Kaneki could sense it in the way he shut up.

"I'll take that as a yes." Kaneki set aside Chie's camera. "Urie, I won't pretend to know you. We just met, and I can tell you don't like me. That's fine. But I can also tell that this is more than just a matter of pride and approval. Not too long ago, actually, I met you at the junior academy. Remember?"

Urie didn't respond. Shirazu pressed the cloth to his chin, and he grimaced.

"You said you wouldn't want to become a ghoul investigator the way I did," Kaneki continued. "That you wanted to work for it. So what the hell were you trying to prove tonight?"

Urie looked away as if he couldn't stand looking at Kaneki's face anymore. Shirazu drew back the rag, which was pinkish and dripping.

Suddenly, Urie turned his attention on Shirazu. His expression was dull, but his eyes were sharp and vicious. Shirazu jerked back in alarm.

"Yesterday my father told you that he didn't want you to be my friend," Urie said. "You said you didn't understand. How could you? Father speaks only the words he finds valuable. Which the truth rarely is. So how could you know?"

"What?" Shirazu asked distantly. "You were listening? That entire time?"

"Of course."

Shirazu's face broke into a bright, disbelieving smile. His crooked teeth were bare, and Urie eyed them with a scrunch of his nose. When his skin grew taut, he winced.

"What is it?" Shirazu asked eagerly. "What was he trying to say?"

"He wasn't trying to say anything," Urie scoffed. "He deliberately didn't say what he meant. So when you didn't understand, he took it in a stride. He didn't want you to know."

"Know what?"

Urie looked at Shirazu as if, frankly, the boy was stupid. Kaneki wanted to chide him for it, but he had no control over the boy. Over either boys, really. He suspected that if a fight broke out, which it easily could, he would have no control over it. A frightening thought, to be sure.

"That I'm eligible for the quinx surgery," Urie said calmly, as if informing them about the recent trip he took to the dentist or something equally mundane. "Wow. You all look so shocked. Well, not you, Chie."

"Huh? Oh, no, Urie." Chie was fiddling with her camera. "Darling. Sweetie. Of course I'm so very shocked." It was complete deadpan. She sniffed a red stain on her sleeve and wrinkled her nose. She then stuck it under Urie's. "Smell this brain juice."

"Stop." He shoved her arm away.

"I got a nice picture of you when you weren't looking."

"That's nice."

"Aren't you gonna ask to see it?"

"I don't care that much."

"Brrr!" Chie gave a dramatic little shiver. "So cold!"

"Wait," Shirazu gasped, dropping the rag into the sloshing bowl of water and rising to his feet. "You what? You said you wouldn't take the offer even if you could!"

"That was before my father had decided for me," Urie said coolly. "Personally, I like making my own decisions. I find his overprotectiveness to be stifling."

"He loves you," Kaneki said in a low, vacant voice. "Can you blame him for that?"

"I don't mind being loved, I mind that he thinks I can't handle it." Urie thumbed his cheek, a smear of blood collecting on the pad of his finger, and he gazed at it dully. "It was my own fault for getting caught. I know that. I heard that ghoul tell you that Chie's scent is difficult to catch, and that's true. They didn't notice her until she fell out of the tree."

"You could be a quinx," Shirazu stated, his voice raising high and hammering down like a fist smashing through the table. "One of us. Is that why you acted so weird yesterday?"

"I didn't know you were one," Urie told him in a low, slow voice, "until I decided to eavesdrop on my father. Personally, I have no stake in the project. I don't care that much, and I don't have a good reason to apply. All I want is for my father to say that I _can_. If I wanted. I don't actually intend on doing it."

Kaneki thought this boy was either very stupid or maybe a genius.

"With your testimony," Kaneki said, "and those pictures, I think we have more than enough to convince the CCG of a large scale operation. _And_ the benevolence of the ghoul who saved you."

After all, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the CCG found out what he and Yoshitoki had been planning. Kaneki would discuss it with the man first, but he figured that Yoshitoki would find Urie's voice to be influential to say the least. Chie was of no particular consequence because she was just a girl with a camera who was lucky not to be dead. Urie was the son of an investigator who had seen firsthand the horror of Aogiri, and been saved by their informant.

"What?" Urie looked at Kaneki sharply. "You want me to do what?"

"Defend the ghoul who saved us so the doves don't kill her," Chie said, pulling her legs up onto the couch and lazily drawing her chin onto them. "Obviously."

Urie paled considerably, his shoulders tensing up as though he had forgotten something crucial. Perhaps for a moment he'd let his prejudice against ghouls die. Perhaps. But only for a moment.

"My father can't know I did this," he said.

"Urie," Kaneki said carefully, aware of how precarious this whole situation had become because two strangers had been dragged into it. Chie caused him no real anxiety, but Urie could be a mistake that no amount of pleading or arguing could erase. The boy had the look about him like he could not truly grasp the truth of the situation. Like he was closing himself off from the truth. Perhaps he wouldn't tell a soul about Touka— but only because he wished to pretend the night had never happened. "You overheard me speaking with Chie this morning, so you must know what this is all about. Why we're so set on driving this operation forward."

The boy's expression was unreadable but for the uneasy flash of his black eyes as they averted sharply.

"You want too much," Chie told him matter-of-factly. "He's not gonna go in front of the whole CCG and tell them that a ghoul saved him."

"You saw what one ghoul could do," Kaneki continued, ignoring Chie. "Now imagine yourself in Mutsuki Tooru's shoes. You are fresh out of a junior academy, still learning the ropes of being an investigator, and then you are kidnapped, strapped to a chair, and made to count backwards from a thousand by sevens. Go on, Urie, try it."

"Count backwards from a thousand?"

"By sevens."

"I can do it. Do you really want me to demonstrate?" Urie rolled his eyes. "A thousand, nine ninety—"

Kaneki grabbed his wrist and jerked Urie's finger back. The boy yelped, tugging but unable to wrench his arm free from Kaneki's grasp.

"What if I started taking your fingers off?" Kaneki met Urie's cold black eyes, and he let the challenge fall where it may. "One by one. Keep counting, and don't forget. They'll heal by tomorrow. Then the cycle repeats. Count backwards, count until the numbers are all that tethers you to the earth, until the numbers are all that keeps the walls of your mind from crumbling. _That_ is what is at stake here. I have a reputation for sympathizing with ghouls, but not these ghouls. Not this time. Urie, that ghoul who saved you is doing the best she can to help Mutsuki, but if we don't hurry there won't be anyone left to save."

Urie's eyes were wide and awash with the glaze of terror that pinned him in place. It kept his limp wrist in Kaneki's fist, his forefinger quaking under the pressure Kaneki applied to it. He was a boy who knew coldness as a form of deception, but could not hold the disguise like a master. All his emotions were laid bare. He then wrenched himself back and held his hand to his chest as if Kaneki had truly wounded him.

"You," Urie spat, his eyes narrowing viciously at Kaneki's face, "are a psychopath."

Then he leapt to his feet and marched like a victor over a bereaved nation toward the door. He threw it open and disappeared. Kaneki felt the immensity of his mistake, the cold gust of air that Urie had left in his wake settling around them. Chie had sat up, her eyes open wide and mouth agape, but she said nothing. What Kaneki had said had not shocked her so much as Urie's reaction.

She started to stand. "I'll go—"

Shirazu was already at the door. "Let me," he said without even looking back at them. He was ashen and shaky— Kaneki had noted out of the corner of his eye that Shirazu had physically recoiled when Kaneki had displayed his harsher side.

He was gone, leaving Kaneki sitting alone with Hori Chie.

There was no reason for him to be so brutal with Urie. To say those things, reveal the extent of his fears for Mutsuki, but he _needed_ Urie on his side. This tactic worked— had worked— many times before. But Urie was a human boy, who had just brushed up against death and realized his own mortality. It was a troubling revelation that Kaneki had lost touch with.

"Tell me I fucked up," Kaneki said glumly, lowering his face into his hands.

"Okay," Chie replied. "You fucked up."

When she said it, it held the utmost truth and hovered over him like an anvil. The weight of it would crush him, and the anxiety of that plagued him.

"I need to go to him," he breathed, drawing his nails into his forehead and forcing them against his skin. "I need to go. I have to save him, or else— or I'll—!"

"You know you can't fight them on your own," Chie said calmly. Her mousy face was set into an easy smile, though it did not reach her eyes. "You let your emotions control you. You're reckless and harsh, underneath a lot of good intentions. If you don't wait for the CCG to spearhead the attack, Aogiri will overpower you simply because you aren't pragmatic or careful. Manipulation is not your strong suit, Kaneki Ken."

"I know…" His breath was a small rattle like tiny fists against rusty bars. "I know…"

"Tsukiyama spoke only praises of you," Chie sighed, leaning back against the couch. "There's only one reason for that. You beat him in a fight. It probably wasn't a fair fight, and his pride was probably wounded, but one weird thing about Tsukiyama is his taste for masochism. He loves to be lowered as an excuse to claw himself back up and prove himself better and even more talented and beautiful, or whatever. You cater to his fucked up tastes."

Kaneki lowered his hands shakily. He stared at him, his whole body bowed. "Did he tell you that he kidnapped Mutsuki once?" he asked.

"I gathered." Chie shrugged. "Not strange. Though kidnapping is a strong word. Didn't Mutsuki go with him willingly?"

"Did Tsukiyama tell you that?"

Chie's brow furrowed, and she looked for the first time truly flustered. A short spike of irritation flashed in her dark eyes. "Point taken," she said, frowning at the space beyond Kaneki's head. "If it makes you feel any better, he probably thought it was a kind of game. Which is why he got me involved. He thinks he owes you a new pet, so he offered his own."

"Mutsuki isn't a pet, and neither are you," Kaneki snapped.

Chie smiled fondly at him for that. "I know," she said. "It sounds bad when put like that. But Shuu really does care about me, in his own weird way. He was worried about this, if you can believe. It's funny when he worries. He's very fussy."

Kaneki couldn't help but smile at that. Yes. He knew well. Part of him almost missed it, but he was exhausted of Tsukiyama Shuu in a way that made him glad that the man had little to do with his life. In spite of Tsukiyama's best efforts.

"How do you know him?" Kaneki asked curiously. Speaking to her dulled the knot in his chest that had enveloped him the moment Urie had walked out.

"Well," Chie said, drawing out the word into one great singing syllable that suggested a juicy story was hooked onto its end. "We went to school together. High school. Fun times. Not really. We were both weird, but because Shuu is pretty and wealthy he got away with it. I didn't mind. It wasn't bullying, it was just outright avoidance. I got ignored. He only noticed me because I noticed him. I knew he was a ghoul, and I wanted the money shot."

"You took a photo of him eating?"

"Bingo!" Chie was pleased that Kaneki had caught on so quickly, and winked at him. "It was great. Best photo of that asshole I've ever taken. Which… is saying a lot, I think. He's a good model when he's not trying so hard."

"Tsukiyama is a good anything when he's not trying so hard," Kaneki sighed.

"True." Chie smiled. "Anyway, he tried to kill me, but that's all behind us now. It was a fun time. I get to hang around him now and photograph his rose garden. Or servants. Here!" Chie grasped her camera and bent over while flicking through photos. "I liked this one. Oh, where is it? It must be older than I thought."

The outward and genuine easiness to Hori Chie was perhaps the most refreshing thing to come from the evening. She had a nice smile, a reassuring little thing that could be kind but also mocking. Her eyes saw all, tawny and big with echoes of what she had seen and what she would see caught like fossils in amber. There were aspects of her that reminded him of Hide in all the ways Shirazu didn't.

"Here!" Chie shoved the camera in his face. "Pretty, huh?"

Kaneki held the camera, his eyes flicking over the image of rows and rows of rose bushes ringing a cobbled path, fat red flowers popping out of delicately trimmed foliage. At the center of the ring, a slender figure had an arm outstretched to the centerpiece of the rose garden, an elegantly shaped swan with a neck no thicker than the figure's dainty wrist. A rose had been plucked by their long, bony fingers. It lingered there in a forever space.

"Who is that?" Kaneki couldn't help but ask.

"Hm?" Chie blinked and leaned over Kaneki's shoulder. As though she had not noticed that the rose garden had been inhabited when she'd snapped the photo. "Oh. That's Kanae."

"I guess they didn't know you were taking a picture."

"If Kanae knew, I'd be dead right now."

"Sounds like a pleasant person," he said, handing the camera back carefully. Chie laughed.

"Oh yes," she said brightly, "I love being called a simple swine in German. I never feel alive until I get those classy insults, they really make me thrive."

Kaneki thought she was being sarcastic, but he realized by her sweet little smile that she was being earnest and unironic and that was a truly frightening thought.

No wonder she and Tsukiyama were best friends.

Shirazu returned at that moment, out of breath and panting. "He," he gasped, waving out the door, "he's waiting for you, um… Hori. Miss. Uh…"

"Bless him," Chie cooed, throwing the strap of her camera over her shoulder. "And to think, I thought he forgot about me. Anyway, Kaneki, I'll throw these photos your way. If you need me to talk to the doves, hit me up."

"Yeah," Kaneki said, rising as she did to show her out. "I'm sorry. For all the trouble."

"I'll put it on your tab."

And then she was gone, with all her easy words and sharp wit and unflinching loyalty with her.

So Kaneki met Shirazu's eye. It was tired, and it was dull, and it flashed away uncertainly.

"What did Urie say?" Kaneki asked.

Shirazu closed the door quietly. "Uh," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He… said he'd do it."

Kaneki's whole body jerked forward, a weight lifting from him— the anvil was removed. "Really?" he gasped, feeling his hand clasping his forehead in disbelief. "I… how? How did you convince him?"

Shirazu rested his back against the door. He shrugged, his tired eyes never meeting Kaneki's.

"I told him that I'd claim responsibility for him being there," he said. "I got him to take the gun, brought him to the forest. Got knocked out. But he said he'd say that the ghoul saved us. And that's what matters."

* * *

The interrogation had left her feeling restless and numb. The surviving Bin Brother had caught her by the front of her shirt, throttling her in front of the kneeling subjects of Aogiri, her blood gathering in small, clustered droplets on the floor. He shouted at her for leaving him, for not being able to contain the situation. Touka rebutted that she had not been on guard, that she had not left her post, and that all she was responsible for was the chance that two children might confront the doves.

The Bin Brother had almost cut her through, before Ayato had arrived and thrown him across the room, leaving Touka to drop to her knees and clamp her hand over her wound. No one here knew it was self-inflicted. A ghoul or two spoke up to defend her, saying that they heard her struggling from a distance. Tatara merely watched her with his cold, narrowed red eyes. As though he could not quite believe what he was hearing.

"Where did two human children get a gun designed to incapacitate ghouls?" Tatara asked her in his clipped, chilly voice.

Touka opened her mouth to respond, but Ayato cut in fiercely, his body half coiled above her. As though he meant to shield her.

"How the hell is Touka supposed to know something like that?" he asked, the bite to his voice too vicious to ignore. Everyone in the room squirmed, perhaps understanding the degree of Ayato's anger and how dangerous that could be. "You won't get the right information if you don't ask the right questions. Tatara."

Touka sat with wide eyes, her brother's shadow yawning over her, and she felt for the first time the weight of him. The weight he held here, in this room, the power that he held without proper handling or restraint, and how that was suddenly reflecting upon her by association.

It had been a long time since she had felt the reassurance of her brother at her side. On her side. There had once been a time where she couldn't imagine him anywhere else, and the thought seized her with the shackles of nostalgia. She was betrayed by the sense of time lost.

"Next time," Touka said in a dizzied, distant voice, "I'll ask."

Tatara eyed her— both of them— with clear dissatisfaction taut in his visible features. He fingered the split vinyl arm of his makeshift thrown, his fingers drumming thoughtfully.

Ayato stood tall. "This is the result that you brought here," he said in a clear, deliberate voice, "when you ordered me to bring the one eyed dove to you. I told you what I thought then, and I'll tell you again. Capturing the ghoul turned dove did nothing. _Torturing_ him has done nothing. This entire ordeal has done nothing but bring us _more_ strife, and if those kids were more than just kids, whose fault will it be if the doves come bearing down on us? Who the hell are we supposed to blame?"

"You're speaking without thinking, Ayato," Tatara said calmly. "I'm not sure how you want me to answer. Should I tell you that it's my fault? You don't believe that."

"No." Ayato seemed to stop to consider his words, which was a lot to process. The thing about him was that he acted so very haughty, but never before Tatara. He was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and submit. "I don't. But you know as well as I do that this was unavoidable. Kaneki Ken was a waste, and now we'll all suffer the consequences of that."

"A waste?" Tatara's head lolled to the side and bumped against his fist. "I wouldn't say that. I'm sure the doves will be glad to be reunited with their lost soldier. What's left of him, anyway."

Touka kept her head bowed so he would not see her discomfort at his words. She was already well acquainted with Mutsuki's misery, and had no intention of escalating it further. The two kids who had shown up had delivered her some bare shreds of hope that Kaneki might pull through soon and provide her with the distraction necessary to free Mutsuki.

Ayato said nothing more. She felt him at her back, skinny and tense and hardly daunting, but still giving the impression that he had been personally offended here. Tatara's expression was unchanging, unflinching, and Touka met his eye and wondered if he could read her mind and see her fear for Mutsuki burning up all her thoughts.

Something fell heavily upon her shoulders, and to her immense surprise she felt fur tickling her cheeks. Ayato's scent was clinging to the hood of the jacket like nails against a cliff. She glanced at him as he knelt beside her and gingerly helped her to her feet, and she wondered. She wondered about him, and how much of what he said and did was a front that he put on. To fool her, to fool Tatara, to fool himself. It seemed like tonight he couldn't keep it up.

"I'm taking her to rest," Ayato told Tatara curtly.

And then he led her into the hall and up the stairs, her heavy steps in line with his. He… was about the same height as her. She found herself focusing on that simple fact, letting it toy with her head as they walked, and there was a prickling sort of sorrow that left her feeling achy and hollow. Part of her wanted to apologize to him for getting blood on his jacket. She dug her palm into her wound and hissed a little when it inevitably hurt like hell.

"Idiot." Ayato pulled her into their room, which was filled to the brim with the shadows of dusk. He kicked his bag and swore quietly, letting go of her only to rummage through it blindly. He produced a flashlight, setting it on its side and casting a dome of light on Touka. "Let me see it."

"I'm fine," she said, pulling back. "I'll heal."

"Lemme see. I wanna see your fuck up." He grabbed her by her unharmed shoulder, and he peered at her blood soaked torso, a tic appearing between his brows. "Did he hit you at close range?"

"Must have."

"Did he or didn't he?"

Touka sighed. Her shoulder was throbbing, and her head wasn't much better off. She knew she had to dig around in her shoulder to remove the bullet, or else she'd just heal around it, so she was just putting off the inevitable.

"Why did you defend me?" she asked, sliding her sleeve off her shoulder so she could get at the wound better. "You had no reason to. What if I was the one to kill Bin Brother number one, or whatever? What would you even do?"

Ayato knelt beside her, his body a shadow curled in the sunshine maw of the flashlight, his hair wisps of ink on a yellowed page. She could feel his eyes following her fingers as she pushed them into the rapidly closing wound, fire eating up her nerves and devouring her entire arm as her nails wriggled and pried the bullet free from its meaty prison. She dropped it onto the cool cement floor, her heart racing, and a gasp loosened from her throat as she slumped. The pain was a dull roar that she could get used to.

"Who cares about a stupid Bin Brother?" Ayato asked her dully.

She looked up at him, and maybe he saw the shock and disbelief plain on her sweaty face, because he turned away sharply. Unable to look at her, he plucked the bullet up from the floor and stood.

"I'm bringing this to Tatara," he said, turning away from her sharply. "Go to sleep."

"Ayato…" Her blood was pooling against her palm, leaking through her fingers, and all she could do was gape as her little brother left her with nothing but a handful of kind gestures and a lifetime of sadness to puzzle through.

And puzzling it was. The next morning she woke up without the killer ache in her shoulder, but still reeling from the events of the previous night and Ayato's teetering loyalty. It seemed as if he had decided to stick by her side openly, but had not fully admitted it to himself yet.

His jacket was still covering her when she sat up, blinking into the morning light. He was gone, of course, which meant she wouldn't get the answers she'd puzzled over. Fantastic.

She spent the day in their room, not so keen on going outside and facing Yamori. If he spotted her, he'd make her go upstairs. She didn't want to go upstairs again. She'd already tortured Mutsuki twice this week, and if she had to do it again, she'd cut her own fingers off in revolt.

Yesterday he'd hardly even screamed. She didn't know why, and it had scared her. She'd stuck around to see Yamori try to shove some meat down his throat, and when Yamori hadn't been looking… Mutsuki had just spat it into the bucket full of his own toes and fingers. That was when Touka realized that he was starving, but still clinging to the fringes of his sanity enough to know human meat was not for consumption. Not for him, anyway.

She emptied her pockets of the small haul she'd acquired when off in the city yesterday. It should suffice. So she stripped down and got dressed for the new day, kicking the bloodstained clothing into the corner and fumbling through her bag. Then she searched through Ayato's.

It was a wonder why he was letting her wear all his clothing.

She was just gathering up her things when Ayato came strolling in. He paused at the door, his eyes on the packet of crackers and box of raisins in her hands. She couldn't exactly hide them, and his initial confusion gave her time to try and think of an excuse, but she had none. So when his eyes widened, and then promptly narrowed, she knew she was fucking done for.

"What the hell is that?" Ayato stepped briskly up to her side, reaching for the raisins. Touka pulled them away, stuffing them back into the pockets of his jacket that was still on her.

"Nothing." Touka straightened up, rubbing the last blear of sleep from her eyes. Her shoulder was all healed up, and no one had come to interrogate her in the night, which meant she was probably in the clear.

"Not nothing," Ayato insisted, his shoulder feinting right and then his arm belting left, grabbing her wrist and tearing her hand from her pocket. The raisins fell onto the floor with a soft clatter. They both stared at them, Touka with dismay and Ayato with suspicion. He bent, reaching down for the box, and she caught him by the shoulders and kicked it away. Immediately he elbowed her back, whirling on her and snatching her by the leather sleeves of his jacket. "What are you doing? What have you done?"

"Nothing," she repeated. She couldn't look him in his face, and she felt his disgust in his heavy glare. After the kindness he'd let himself show her last night, she didn't want to wreck this. But her existence here in Aogiri was made to put a rift between them, and she felt it shifting beneath their feet. Was there really no way to pull him to her side before they were separated forever?

"Why do you have human food?" Ayato shook her, not exactly roughly but enough to get her to jolt and look at him in his eyes. He didn't even look angry, just utterly lost and a little frightened. "Touka. You idiot. What are you doing?"

"Why do you care?" she asked him coolly.

"Why shouldn't I?" he snapped.

"Well," she said, lifting her chin and glowering away from his face, at some corner of the room, "you never cared about what I had to say before. Why are you all interested in it now?"

Ayato released her, and she glanced at him sharply. He'd taken a step back, his expression changing to suit the chill of her words. His expression was hard and implacable, and she held her breath as she listened to the ground crack.

"Tell me," he said.

"No."

"Touka!"

She scooped up the raisins and stuffed them in her pocket. "If you cared," she said, "even an ounce about what I have to say about anything at all, you would have listened to me when I got here. You would have listened to me when you left me. Right now, you don't deserve to know anything."

"What the fuck?" Ayato snapped. "What is _wrong_ with you? You never make any sense. Why do I have to try so hard to prove to you that I give a fuck?"

"Because you don't try at all!" Touka shook her head furiously, her breath hitching in her throat. Her thoughts were whirling in her head, reminding her that this was her little brother, that of _course_ he cared about her. "Yesterday was the first time in _years_ I felt like you were on my side, but five minutes can't wash away all the hatred you've shown me. What did I do?" She looked at him, swallowing the lump in her throat and keeping her face as cold and clear as his. "Ayato, tell me. What did I do to make you leave?"

"You chose Anteiku."

"I didn't think I was making a choice!" She took a deep breath. His face was twisted into a snarl, but she had to be the bigger sibling here. "I didn't… I didn't know… Ayato, we both wanted different things. I didn't stop you from leaving because I wasn't deluded enough to think I could control you. You're free to do what you want, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt me to let you go."

"You couldn't have kept me there," he scoffed, the contempt oozing from his voice.

"I wouldn't have tried," she said, lowering her chin and letting her words fall like little knives driving into the cement at their feet. "Ayato… we can't pretend to be people we're not. You want to hate everything. Destroy everything. I just turned the other way because it hurt too much to watch you do it."

"Don't act like you know me so well," he said. Except it was not his haughty, biting voice that caught her. It was a whispery breath that caught in his throat. And that was when she knew. Ayato was listening to her, and every word she spoke was piercing his heart. For the first time, she felt like maybe she could trust him.

"I know you better than anyone," Touka told him sharply. "Nobody here could even pretend to know you like I do."

"Yeah, well, I know you too, sis," he snapped. "I know that you let those humans go yesterday. I should go along and tell Tatara _that_ little bit of information and let you rot below with all the rest of the rejects."

"You won't," she said firmly. It wasn't a declaration of truth, because she couldn't know if he was bluffing or not. She just knew that her heart had jumped, and the terror of what he was implicating settled in.

"Guess you don't know me so well, _sis,_ " he hissed, taking a long step back and stuffing his hands in his pocket. Her eyes widened as he whirled around and marched back toward the door. _No,_ she thought numbly, a cold sensation sliding through her chest like condensation on a cave wall. _He's going to do it. He's going to…_

Touka's thoughts cut off upon the revelation that she had instinctively reached into her boot and withdrawn the heavy gun she'd stolen the previous night from that boy. She pressed her hand to the top of it, and clicked the safety off with a jerky shift. Ayato spun on his heel, his eyes flicking wildly from the gun to her face and back.

"You unbelievable bitch," he said flatly.

She realized with a twinge of amusement that he probably though she was going to shoot him. She met his gaze, and she saw the fury and betrayal there. She took a deep breath, and she turned the gun on herself once more, the barrel cool and heavy against her temple.

"Tell Tatara," she said, "and I pull the trigger."

"Wow." Ayato got over his initial shock pretty quickly, and stood with his arms crossed before her. "Melodramatic much? Put that down, Touka. I know you. You won't kill yourself."

Her fingers were shaking against the trigger, which of course she knew wasn't good, and her heart thudded wildly against her ribcage. She had felt like this when she'd raised the gun to the back of the Bin Brother's head and shot him. She'd thought, _Can I really do this_?

And the truth was that she could probably do anything if pushed hard enough.

"If you really think that," she said, "then let this be a lesson. If you tell Tatara, I'm already dead."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ayato asked slowly, his betraying his fear to her with his tensed up shoulders and twisting expression. "Touka, put the gun down."

"I don't know if I can."

"You're being ridiculous." Ayato took a step forward, and Touka jerked back. She lifted her finger off the trigger for a moment so she wouldn't accidentally shoot herself, and she took a deep breath. It settled shakily against the air. "Touka. This is so fucking stupid, just put the gun—"

"I need you to understand," Touka snapped, her eyes squeezing shut. "Are you actually scared? Do you actually care if you lose me? Tell me."

"This is bullshit," Ayato uttered. "You're… you're fucking crazy…"

"Is that a no?" Touka whispered.

"I'm not listening to this."

"I'm not stopping you from walking out," she said, her eyes flickering open and fixing upon him with a dull stare. "Go and tell Tatara what I've done. Whatever happens next is on you, not me."

"You're the one with the gun!" Ayato's voice cracked, his small, childish voice breaking through for the first time in a long time. It betrayed him once more, leaving him open to read and open to sway. All his fear had accumulated and busted his cold exterior.

"You're the one who decides what I do with it," Touka replied.

His eyes were wide. Maybe it struck him that she was serious, for reasons he could not know and could not understand, and maybe he was feeling the intentions behind her apparent mental break. She didn't want to die. Even he could see that. There were tears in her eyes that warped his image, made him smaller and more approachable, and when he stepped forward she wanted to step back once again. But she found that she couldn't.

It was cruel to use him like this. To use what love she _knew_ he had for her to draw out his loyalty. But she was running out of time. Last night had proven that Touka couldn't continue on like this without Ayato outwardly placing his trust in her. It had saved her once, and she needed it again.

"Idiot," Ayato exhaled. She jerked back, blinking through her tears and finding him only centimeters from her, his jaw clenched and his eyes heavily lidded. "What did Yamori do to you?"

A shuddery breath fell from her lips, and the blockade that had held her tears at bay dispersed. She pulled her hand over her mouth to stifle anymore helpless sounds, hot tears trickling against her fingers. Ayato watched her with dull eyes. He reached with slow, careful hands, and he pulled the gun away from her forehead.

"Did you think I didn't notice?" His head bowed, and their foreheads nearly met, their dark hair intermingling in unruly tufts. "He was interested in you from the start. Why didn't you listen to me? Why did you stay here?"

"Because…" She heard her own trembling voice, and she gritted her teeth and turned her face away sharply. "I— I have to. Okay?"

"What did Yamori do to you?" Ayato repeated in a slow, even tone.

The gun clattered against the floor, leaving Ayato clutching her quaking hand in both of his, and she listened to her own shaky breaths as she tried to catch them like her lungs were a jar and oxygen was as elusive as fireflies.

Very hesitantly, she turned her face back to his and searched his face for a sign of rage or distrust. But Ayato, for once, was steady and calm, his brow furrowed and his eyes unable to hide the wash of relief that flooded them.

"Let me show you," she said softly. "Do you trust me?"

Ayato peered at her. He took a deep breath, and let a sigh he was holding split the ground beneath them.

"Idiot," he breathed, gently smacking her upside the head. His hand was still wound around hers.

A chasm had appeared, and he had jumped the distance. He was at her side, and that thought made her so dizzy with relief. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she had to cling to him, or else she'd lose him again.

So she pulled him from the room and led him through the building and into another wing, navigating the dilapidated corridors and up the treacherous stairwell toward Yamori's attic room. Ayato paused, jerking her arm away and eyeing her uncertainly.

"Isn't this where he's keeping the dove?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes." Touka looked back at him, unable to keep her eyes from trailing to their interlocked hands. Ayato pried his hand free, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Do you still want to know?"

"He tortured you?"

She grimaced. She turned away from him and let her boots clap against the stairs. "Not quite. Keep a nose out for Yamori, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

They stopped at the door. Touka turned to face him. "Yamori can't know I'm here," she whispered. "I don't know what he'll do if he finds out. So…"

"I'll keep watch," he said hesitantly. "But what does this have to—?"

Touka pushed the door open, baring the stretch of the expansive room with its checkered flooring and broken boy at the very center. He was slumped over, his chin against his chest, his shoulders stiff from the awkward binding of his arms behind his back. Beside her, Ayato had tensed up, his face impassive but his body suggesting he was on the defensive. Touka walked in quietly, sticking her hands into her pockets and holding her breath as she approached him. How many days had it been? Yamori was going to kill him at this rate.

"Mutsuki," she whispered, her voice cracking like a whip across the vacant room. It was the acoustics of the room. Sounds were meant to echo. Screams meant to reverberate back into your ears. "Hey."

She held her breath. She could hear her heart thudding fearfully. She gently rested her fingers against the top of his head. A few strands of his dark hair where shot through with white, peppering here and there. It was matted and dirty from the days gone unwashed, left to stew in sweat.

His head lifted slightly beneath her touch, and she let out a great sigh of relief. She dropped to her knees pushing his hair gently from his forehead and holding his face gingerly. His tired eyes were glazed over, his lips parted and chapped, the ridges of peeling skin reminiscent of distant mountains.

He stared at her, his swollen eyes widening for a moment. He shook his head, and it was such a weak little gesture. "No," he choked. "No… Touka… don't…"

"It's okay." She pulled out a very small bottle of water and uncapped it. "Calm down."

Mutsuki, whose chapped lips had begun to tremble at the sight of water, fell silent. She held the back of his head as she brought the bottle to his lips, and he greedily chugged the whole thing in a solid thirty seconds. His eyes were watering, his breathing uneven and shallow, and he let out a shaky laugh.

"You… you're so good, Touka…" He took a deep breath. "You should go… before you get caught."

"I've got that under control. Listen…" She stuffed the bottle back into her pocket and withdrew the raisins. "I'm going to get you out of here. You know that, right?"

"Touka…"

"Tell me that you know that."

"You should go," Mutsuki sighed. "You should really go… he wants to kill you, you know. Once he kills me, he'll move onto you… he—!"

"That won't happen." Touka shook a few raisins into her hand. They were shriveled and gross looking, but Touka had read somewhere that when humans didn't eat for a while they had trouble holding things down. "Listen to me, okay? I… won't let you stay locked up. Continue to be tortured. This is going to end, Mutsuki."

"You sound… so sure…" Mutsuki's eyelashes fluttered closed, and Touka gently tapped his cheek. She lifted the raisins to his mouth, dropping two gingerly onto his tongue.

"Easy," she said, watching him swallow without even chewing. "You don't want to vomit, do you?"

"Ha." He sounded so tired. "No… no I don't…"

"Keep your head up," Touka whispered, her throat closing up as she searched his sallow face. She gingerly smoothed his hair back, and she saw the corners of his lips twitch. His forehead slumped against her forehead. "I… I'm sorry. Everything I've done… Mutsuki, I—"

"You think I blame you?" Mutsuki raised his head shakily, as if it took all of his energy to meet her eye. "I… I know better… than to blame you for the pain I've gone through. I know that this is better. That it's me."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" She shook a few raisins into her hand and cautiously fed them to him. Part of her was wondering how he had survived so long without food or water. Was it his ghoul anatomy pulling through for him?

"It's just better… this way…" He took a deep breath, and his eyes were suddenly shadowy with pain. "Ah… you should really go…"

"Not yet." She didn't want to leave him because she knew what would come after, and she was so scared for him and for her and for this unsteady future they'd set in motion. "I need you to know. I need you to know that I didn't want to hurt you."

"I know." Mutsuki's droopy eyes, cloudy with the dregs of his pain and bruised from the handful of sleepless nights, met hers with a faint glimmer of hope rising from their depths. "I don't blame you. I can't. How… How could I?"

"I tortured you," she whispered.

"That wasn't you."

"How are you even holding up?" Touka shook her head in disbelief. "If it were me… I feel like I would have snapped by now."

He smiled at her. He didn't respond, and instead bowed his head and continued to take deep breaths.

She couldn't fathom it. The amount of strength it must take to simply smile after all of this. She felt like a fool for feeling as she did, when she was not the one strapped to a chair with her fingers and toes in a bucket beside. Suddenly Ayato was at her side, tugging her by the wrist, his eyes soaking in the sight of Mutsuki Tooru in the chair.

"We have to go," he whispered.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, and she looked down at Mutsuki desperately, but he was not looking at her. "Wait," she said. But Ayato did not listen. He tugged her again. Touka's fingers dragged through Mutsuki's hair, slipping from his cheek and twitching against the air as she was jerked violently toward the window. "Ayato, stop—!"

He clamped his hand over her mouth and pushed her towards a glass panel that he pried upwards. He took one last, fleeting look at Mutsuki before ushering her through the window. She leveraged herself against the glass, waiting for Ayato to slip out after her, and for a moment they shared a glance of disbelief that came with the product of Yamori's nature. Then they looked at Mutsuki. He had raised his head to watch them go through the window.

Ayato kicked the window shut, shimmied himself to Touka's side, and threw her arm around her waist before pushing off the glass and letting them free fall onto the balcony below. It was a brief lurch of adrenaline that caught her voice and boxed it in, forcing her to cling to her brother as they hit the ground rolling, their bodies colliding harshly with the stone and tangling together.

He immediately kicked her off him, jerking to his feet and running his fingers through his hair. His face was pale, his lips thin and slightly parted.

"You shouldn't have come," he said quietly.

She sat, her newly healed shoulder throbbing from the fall and the phantom pains. She rubbed it pensively, understanding the extent of her mistakes.

"He doesn't deserve this," she said.

"He's a dove."

"He's done nothing to deserve this."

"Besides being a dove?" Ayato snapped. His fingers were still half knotted in his dark hair. "Did you forget? Our lives are hell because of doves!"

"You can't fault one boy for lifetimes of suffering!" Touka pushed herself shakily to her feet, meeting Ayato's glare with a fierce gaze. "He's not much older than you are, Ayato. He's innocent."

"No doves are innocent."

"Tell me you think he deserves this," Touka hissed, snatching him by the shoulder. "If you really think so, I dare you to go back up there and torture him yourself. Then tell me that doves should be subjected to Yamori's methods of interrogation. Which, by the way, I say loosely. Yamori hasn't even been questioning him."

Ayato was quiet, his fingers slipping slowly from his hair. "So that's what Yamori did," he said wearily. "You're too soft, Touka. Showing your weak spot to Yamori like that— this is what your compassion got you. A front row seat to that kid's execution."

Her mouth opened to object, to snap at him for being so cold, but she saw in his face that he was a little dazed and maybe even a little dismayed by what he had seen. She didn't know why, exactly, because they'd both dismembered their fair share of people. Perhaps it was the bucket of rotting body parts and the blood stains running up the length of Mutsuki's feet that had gotten to him.

Ayato was fair, at least, when it came to the kill. He found it pointless to force prey to suffer.

He bowed his head, his small shoulders jumping as though in a sudden revelation had struck him hard and fast like a blow to the head.

"That wasn't Kaneki Ken," he said in disbelief. His eyes swiveled toward her, and there was an accusation there that froze the very blood that shot from her heart to her fingertips. "Touka… what the fuck did you do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oscen, oscinis.  
> bird of augury (e.g. crow, raven, owl)


	28. bucina

The photographs spilled across his desk like scales being flipped. Kaneki stood back, a shadowy figure in the corner of the office, while the tiny girl took the forefront. Beside her was a high school student who sat primly in his chair, black eyes cast strategically away from any prying gaze. At Kaneki's side, looking stiff and out of place in a new white coat was Shirazu Ginshi.

Washuu Yoshitoki could already tell that this was going to be an eventful morning.

"What exactly am I looking at?" he asked, plucking up one photo and peering closely at the steely building that was glazed with the burnt shades of sunset.

"That," supplied the small girl, leaning in closer and extending her arm to point at the photo, "is Aogiri's headquarters. Now you can attack them, or whatever. You're welcome."

Yoshitoki eyed the building for a short moment before focusing his gaze on the girl. She looked very much like a child, but Yoshitoki wasn't fool enough to fall for such a ruse. No, the girl was the oldest one in the room aside from himself. She was tawny eyed and simple looking, her round face a portrait of youth. She had small hands, he noticed, that looked soft and underused. Her work was not the kind that would give her calluses as his work did.

"You must understand," Yoshitoki said cautiously, "that it's not that simple."

"You act as though I've only given you one picture, sir," the girl said innocently, with eyes big and blinking and with a smile that sat all too cleverly on her thin lips. "You should take a look at the rest. It nearly cost me a whole lot to get them."

The boy beside her covered his mouth as though to hide a scoff. Yoshitoki set the photo down and turned his attention toward Kaneki. He couldn't deny that he was concerned for the boy, since he didn't seem to be coping well with Mutsuki Tooru's disappearance. It was in the CCG's best interest to retrieve the boy, but Kaneki wanted them to work miracles. It had barely been five days. Not even the Washuus could produce a strategy for an operation in that amount of time.

"You know if you wanted my attention, you could have just called," he told Kaneki genially.

Kaneki stood with his back to the wall and his chin lowered to his chest. "I told you I'd get the location, didn't I?" He ignored the glance Shirazu shot him, but it didn't go overlooked by Yoshitoki. _Ah,_ he thought, _so they all know, then. I suppose it couldn't stay a secret forever._

"So our mutual friend made herself useful?" Yoshitoki plucked up another photograph, peering at the image of a small, slender ghoul holding what Yoshitoki recognized as a standard CCG issued gun. "I'm not sure how I'm going to explain this."

"That's why we're here," said the mousy girl, flicking her index finger between her face and the boy's beside her. "We were actually there. Our testimony that this was actually Aogiri, and on the ghoul's behalf should be enough. Right?"

"You underestimate the stubbornness of a council," Yoshitoki sighed, setting the photo of the ghoul aside. He assumed that this was their informant. The photo could be very incriminating if put into the wrong hands. "Why don't you all start from the beginning? Whose idea was it to photograph this place? Kaneki?"

"Unfortunately," Kaneki said from the corner, "this was not my plan. Remember when I told you about that other informant?"

"I'm beginning to feel like I should set restrictions." Yoshitoki said this in a good humored way. He found it all very amusing, if not concerning, since Kaneki had put a good deal of effort into all this. And it _was_ helpful. Yoshitoki had a location, and now all he had to do was sell it to his father and the rest of the high ranking investigators that would be involved with an operation of this scale. Kaneki wanted him to reveal their informant, which was a bad idea. Even the testimony of two children could not make trusting a ghoul seem worthwhile.

"Too little, too late," Kaneki said, stepping forward so he stood directly between the boy and the girl he'd dragged in. "Those photographs are proof enough of Aogiri's base, and the testimony of Urie and Hori should be enough to gain support. They didn't have to come forward. It would have been easier not to."

It was hard not to notice the discomfort in the boy as Kaneki spoke. Urie, his name was. He seemed to be a smart, introverted young man, his eyes languid and his body tense. He wanted to leave this office as soon as possible. Why was that? What had gotten him so high strung about this matter? Was it trusting a ghoul that made him so antsy? Or perhaps something deeper was weighing on his mind.

"Let's say for a moment," Yoshitoki sighed, setting the photograph of their informant aside, "that I choose to acquiesce. Kaneki, being the Director does not mean I am free of scrutiny. I have to go to the Special Class Investigators with a solid reason for commencing this operation, and the words of high schoolers will not cut it."

"What about the word of an investigator's son?" Urie asked sharply, his eyes carefully avoiding any contact with Yoshitoki's. He stared at a wall from the corner of his eyes, his black irises glazed with doubt. "Would that suffice, sir? Would that be enough for you?"

Yoshitoki raised his chin, digesting these words and cursing his curiosity for biting the bait. Urie was dressed in his school uniform, his clothing neat and pristine, his posture polished and refined, his expression schooled and calm despite the fear in his eyes. Now it seemed to all make sense. He was anxious because he feared what would happen once his father found out about his fraternizing with ghouls.

"That," Yoshitoki said, leaning forward and resting his folded hands on his desk, " _does_ change things. A great deal, actually. Mr. Urie, was it? Explain what happened."

The boy nodded curtly, still not really meeting Yoshitoki's eye and instead focusing on his other features dazedly. He summarized the events of the previous night, how Shirazu had coerced him into going to get Mutsuki. Kaneki had not informed him of the location, but Urie had overheard him discussing it with Hori earlier that day, so they had concocted a plan. A poor plan, it seemed. Shirazu, inexperienced and weak, and Urie, young and near defenseless against ghouls, had not gotten far before the Aogiri caught their scent. There were two ghouls, apparently, similar in attire, apparently brothers. One left to get reinforcements while the other stood watch. It was then that Hori had fallen from a tree.

Hori picked up from there.

"Urie shot the ghoul," she said calmly. "That was what got me. I wasn't expecting a gunshot, and I was startled. Anyways, Urie is a pretty good shot for a kid, and ended up actually hitting the ghoul. We tried to run, but didn't really get far. Then the moon ghoul showed up. She acted pretty chummy with the ghoul who had attacked us— she even disarmed Urie. And then, when the other ghoul's back was turned, she shot him in the head."

Hori tapped the photo of the ghoul in question, and she offered a shrug as though this was a common story she might tell over drinks.

"Then she accused us of killing him," Urie said dully. "Very loudly. I guess she thought ahead and realized anyone could be listening, so she covered her tracks before letting us go. She told us to tell Kaneki to hurry."

"Or else," Hori added brightly, "there would be no one left to save."

Urie tapped a finger twice against his armrest, and he turned his face away very abruptly. This was an interesting turn of events indeed.

Yoshitoki leaned forward, his lips pressing to his folded hands, and he inhaled sharply. "I see," he said, raising his gaze to Kaneki's. As usual, the boy was absolutely inscrutable. A wildcard, if you would, as unpredictable as Suzuya Juuzou but with half the flair and double the sanity. If Yoshitoki was a betting man— which of course he was— then he'd put his money on Kaneki Ken's will if nothing else.

Perhaps not his life. No, Yoshitoki didn't suppose he'd stake much on Kaneki Ken living past twenty. But he didn't doubt his name would outlive him. Whether it was in infamy or not was still a tipping scale.

"Is this enough?" Kaneki demanded.

Yoshitoki thought that Kaneki might have been a boy who had asked politely for the things he wanted once, but something harsh had warped his perception of good and bad, and now he decided to take what he wanted by any means necessary.

"It's more substantial," Yoshitoki said, cocking his head a single tick, "I'll give you that. Is it enough? No, not for the Special Class Investigators to bite— but it's enough for me. It's enough that it would seem rational to believe, even if one does not quite believe it themselves. My approval, plus the word of an investigator's son, will make it difficult for anyone to object."

"Even when you reveal that the informant was planted by the CCG?" Kaneki asked coolly.

Yoshitoki matched his cold gaze, and he flattened his hands against his desk. "Trust is a two way street, Kaneki," he said. "I said I would protect the informant, and that was the truth. I don't intend to go back on my word."

"But you can't control the whole CCG," Kaneki said heatedly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You said so yourself. This isn't a half ghoul or a controlled experiment, this is a real life ghoul who has a past that no one here will approve of. The options for a ghoul caught by the CCG is death or Cochlea, which can easily lead to death, so let me ask you again. What will happen after you reveal that a ghoul is spying on other ghouls for the CCG?"

"We discussed this." Yoshitoki noted the reactions to this outburst. Shirazu shrunk into his little corner, closing his eyes as though he didn't want to hear it. This was probably a fresh wound. Urie looked simply uncomfortable, like he'd been dragged in the middle of a dispute that he'd never expected to be part of. It was only Hori who seemed unsurprised and undeterred, sitting placidly in her seat and glancing between Kaneki and Yoshitoki with an innocent expression. "We both have everything at stake because of this gamble. Kaneki, I could spin this without revealing that the ghoul is on our side."

"That doesn't guarantee her safety when we storm Aogiri," Kaneki said sharply. "Every investigator involved with this operation has to know that she is a No Kill order."

"Excessive." Yoshitoki decided that this conversation was not going to end with either of them fully satisfied, so it was best to lay out the best cards for a compromise now. "How about this, then? I will tell the Special Class and certain Associate Special Class investigators. Only they will know. They will lead their squads, and be able to control their men so the informant remains safe. Does that sound fair?"

Kaneki looked puzzled as though he had not expected Yoshitoki to give in so easily. Even Shirazu and Urie looked a little startled, Urie's head perking up and Shirazu's whole body seeming to jerk.

"That…" Kaneki's brow furrowed. He nodded slowly. "Okay. That's reasonable."

"The operation will take place at the end of the week," Yoshitoki said. He nodded to both Hori and Urie. "You will repeat what you told me to the Special Class Investigators. Tomorrow at noon."

Urie seemed to pale at his words. He looked just about ready to object. He opened his mouth, and then he shut it.

"Fine by me," Hori said.

Urie opened his mouth again.

"May I speak to you in private, sir?"

A silence followed his words that was filled with an indescribable amount of tension. Yoshitoki had to wade through it.

"Of course."

That was Kaneki's cue to usher everyone else out. He did it, albeit, hesitantly, throwing a questioning glance at Urie. Who simply ignored him. Shirazu openly inquired what Urie was doing, with the same result. When the door shut, Urie sighed and he closed his eyes.

"What is it?" Yoshitoki asked gently. "Don't be frightened, I won't punish you for speaking candidly."

Urie opened his eyes. They were dull and tired.

"I don't want to tell anyone else," he said simply.

"Ah." Yoshitoki nodded. "So you're scared of what your father will say when he finds out."

Urie jerked a bit, his eyes narrowing sharply at Yoshitoki's face. "I never said that," he said stiffly.

"No. You did not."

Urie's lower lip twitched, words filling up his mouth and getting stuck behind his teeth. He looked down at his lap, his eyes widening and his body only growing more and more tense.

"I won't force you to speak," Yoshitoki said softly, "but you should know that your testimony is crucial to pushing ahead with the operation."

Urie traced the smooth dips carved into the wood of his armrest thoughtfully. "Sir," he said, "why was Mutsuki Tooru kidnapped?"

Yoshitoki had not expected this question. He supposed it was an earnest one, something a curious teenager felt the urge to know. It couldn't hurt.

"He was at the wrong place at the wrong time," Yoshitoki replied. "Perhaps he was mistaken for someone else, or he was just deemed useful. Who knows for sure?"

"Mutsuki does."

"Well, he isn't here right now. Right now, all we have is the hope that we can rescue him— a hope that relies on you."

"You can get them to agree to the operation without me," Urie sighed. "This… all of this… seems so needless. I'm not important here. I'm just… I'm just someone who made a mistake. I didn't think it through. I wish I could go back. I wish I'd never heard the name Mutsuki Tooru."

"By all means," Yoshitoki said, holding up his hands, "regret having compassion. It may be easier for you that way."

Urie frowned, clearly puzzled by Yoshitoki's words. Perhaps he couldn't tell if they were passive aggressive or just brutally honest. He shook his head.

"He was in danger because he was a quinx," Urie said firmly. "He wouldn't be in this position otherwise. Right? You can't deny that, sir."

"You're correct. I can't."

"I shouldn't be here," Urie sighed. He stood up. "Thank you for your time, but… I'm not here to help ghouls. Or even part ghouls. It was a mistake to agree to this. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"I'm sorry too," Yoshitoki said quietly. Even he felt the weight of Mutsuki Tooru's life as it dangled above the inferno. This boy was slackening his grip, ready to let it fall, just to lessen his own burden. "I take it that you will not be applying for the quinx program, Mr. Urie?"

The boy's eyes slid sharply to Yoshitoki's face, searching it carefully for any sign of malice. His fingers, long and bony, snatched the back of his chair and dug into it. His jaw was clenched tightly, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"You knew this whole time?" he asked stiffly.

"I knew when Kaneki called you Urie," Yoshitoki said simply. "So. You're afraid of being a quinx."

"That's not it at all."

"Then perhaps you should explain to me what the trouble is." Yoshitoki leaned back in his seat and raised his chin high. "I could go on with guessing. I have a theory. Would you like to hear it?"

Urie's silence was reply enough.

"It is inevitable that all sons one day disappoint their fathers," Yoshitoki said calmly. "I've done it. My own children have done it. It is unavoidable."

Urie stared at him, jaw clenched, eyes forward. And he said, "Good to know, sir."

"Disappoint him." Yoshitoki shrugged simply. "He'll forgive you. Forgiveness is easy when you're a parent."

Urie blinked. He lowered his head, bowing it respectfully. "Thank you, sir."

"Are you going to listen to me?"

Urie stayed respectfully bowed. He took a breath. "I'm not sure, sir."

Yoshitoki sighed. He pulled out a piece of paper and snatched a pen, scrawling on it quickly. He folded the paper twice, thrice, four times, and then he offered it to Urie between two fingers. "Think about it," he said brightly. "You have options. This is not the end of the world for you. It could be, however, for Mutsuki Tooru."

Urie eyed the paper uncertainly. He cautiously took it and unfolded it slowly. His eyes raked the few words on the paper. And then they flashed wide.

"So," Yoshitoki said, busying himself with some paperwork he'd been avoiding until now. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Urie Kuki said in a small voice, "Yes, sir."

* * *

It was admittedly difficult to go through the motions when a disruption enters your life that does not immediately settle. The world was shifting, and getting the right footing wasn't as easy as it seemed. He felt like he was going to fall, and that was such a frightening prospect because he prided himself in being surefooted and steady.

It was so easy to falter when the world stopped making sense.

He supposed that the trial of getting older was that all the stakes were raised, and every wrong decision was more severe than the last, and you were _culpable_. You can't run away from your mistakes. You just have to deal with it.

Urie Kuki was not happy. Fucking up was an entirely foreign concept to him, and he knew he'd been haughty but he just couldn't believe that he'd been such a fool. What had he expected to happen, following Hori Chie? It had been a lapse of judgement— of sanity, perhaps. He wanted to wash away the shame of it, of being the fool, but he was lost in a rut of his own mistakes.

"First you're late, and now you're throwing matches," his fencing instructor spoke heatedly, ignoring the fact that Urie was trying to maintain an aloof, composed atmosphere. "Urie, do I need to be concerned? Your father should—!"

"I'm fine," Urie cut in, plucking up his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. "I just didn't get enough sleep last night. I had an exam today that I had to cram for."

The man searched Urie's face, as though he could sense the lie, and it honestly bugged the hell out of Urie. Could he just mind his own fucking business, or what? Like, Urie was just trying to live his life. It wasn't anyone else's problem if it was falling apart.

"Get more sleep," his instructor said firmly. Urie nodded curtly as he brushed past him. "And tomorrow, Urie, please be on time!"

"Yes, teacher."

The trouble was that he had to be at the main branch tomorrow to spill a crazy story about a heroic ghoul to _every Special Class Investigator on staff_. Urie was literally going to just eat a fucking brick and jump into the river.

Urie stood on the last step before the landing, staring out into the snowy evening with one hand gripping the strap of his bag and the other clenched tightly against the crumpled bit of paper the Director had handed to him that morning. He could feel its edges, already worn and creased from crumpling and uncrumpling, and it seemed to jab at his skin uncomfortably. It felt so dangerous in his hand, like it was about to burst into flames.

Anyway. That might be for the best. He could plausibly get out of showing up tomorrow if he was in a burn unit.

The street lights had already flickered on, streaks of light pooling against the glass doors, and Urie realized he had to walk all the way to a station and catch a train home in the cold and the slush. He'd forgotten his scarf in his haste to leave the house that morning. He hadn't wanted his father to suspect anything strange, so he'd just left before his father had properly woken up. Which, in hindsight, was probably a bad idea.

Urie sunk down, his bag thumping against the step beneath him as he sat down and opened his palm. The crumpled paper sat. He stared at it, its bumps and creases a reminder of how many times he'd stared at it during the day. It looked aged and worn, despite being only a few hours old. Urie stared.

He viciously flung it at the glass door, watching it bounce off the yellow streaks that flowed in through the street and roll against the muddy doormat. Urie pulled his knees up to his mouth to hide a scowl.

The door opened, light blotted out by a looming figure, and Urie closed his eyes.

Of course. Just what he fucking needed.

He felt movement at his side, heavy footsteps scraping against the stair. He moved his bag rather violently, shoving it off the step to make room for the intruder.

"What are you doing here," he sighed, unable to even open his eyes, "Shirazu?"

Shirazu sat by his side, a heavy presence, unwelcomed but insistent, and Urie wanted to sink into a pit or something and just. Just sink. Forever and ever. Right into the abyss.

"I was worried," Shirazu stated simply.

Urie's eyes snapped open.

 _Idiot_ , he thought, slightly sickened and urged to scoot aside so they were not so close. Only fools stuck their necks out like this, fools who didn't realize they weren't wanted.

"I'm fine," Urie said, not for the first time that day and probably not for the last. He looked into Shirazu's eyes to show he was earnest, though he certainly was not earnest at all. "Really. Just a little shaken up."

"This isn't just about your dad, is it?" Shirazu was prying and he didn't even know it. "I'm sure he cares about ya no matter what. He'll forgive ya."

"I know," Urie said. _He's going to be disappointed in me forever,_ he thought _. You imbecile. What do you know about this? Isn't your dad fucking dead? What the fuck do you know?_

"Ya know," Shirazu said cautiously, "but ya don't care. Right?"

Urie blinked. He turned his face away, Shirazu's head shaking in his peripheral vision.

"Right." Shirazu sighed. "Man. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for ya to get roped into all this."

Urie glanced at him, finding for the first time that Shirazu's words had shocked him. He didn't know how to feel about them. The boy was certainly honest— nothing but, really. However, Urie felt that there was something not all there about him. Urie was reminded, guiltily, that his sister was sick.

"I have to speak in front of the Special Class Investigators," Urie said. It was the first time he was saying this, and it made his whole body seem to clench up in a knot of anxiety. "I have to defend a ghoul to them. To save _your_ friend."

"Mutsuki is a good person," Shirazu said softly. "He saved me. He— he ain't like me. Or you, even. He just… I don't know. He really cares about people."

"You don't know me," Urie scoffed.

Shirazu smiled wanly. "Sure I don't," he said. "Listen, I ain't gonna pretend like we're best buddies, but we did go to school together for a little while. Urie, I ain't here to roast you for being quiet and like, withdrawn or whatever. I just wanted to say thanks."

"Thanks?"

Shirazu blinked innocently. "For still doing this," he said. "Even though I know ya don't want to. Even though it's hard. It means a lot."

"I'm not doing it for you," Urie said coldly.

"I know," Shirazu said simply. "I ain't gonna pretend like it's all that. I figure ya have your own reasons, and that's fine. I get it. We've all got our own shit to deal with. But still. Thank you."

Urie was immensely confused. Not touched. No, he didn't think Shirazu's simple ways could touch him, but there was something close to fondness here that surprised Urie. Shirazu was kind of annoying, but he wasn't a bad guy to be around, and Urie was…

Ah.

His eyes trailed to the crumpled bit of paper lying on the floor a meter or so away. It taunted him.

"When you save him," Urie said cautiously, "could I meet him?"

Shirazu perked up so suddenly, so thoroughly, that it boggled Urie's mind. Nobody should be able to change their mood so abruptly.

"Absolutely," Shirazu gasped. "I'll… ah, we don't have a landline. I'll use Kaneki's phone to text you!"

"You really need to get a cellphone," Urie said with a light chuckle. He stood up, offering Shirazu a hand. The boy took it gratefully, hopping to his feet and picking up Urie's back. "I should probably head home now."

"I'll walk you to the station," Shirazu said.

Urie blinked at him questioningly, and Shirazu merely smiled sheepishly. "You probably shouldn't be alone. There's still a ghoul out there who wants you dead."

"It's a five minute walk," Urie said vacantly, turning his face toward the glass doors. Yellow lamplight glowed warmly against his face. "I won't get jumped in five minutes."

"You don't know that."

"I know this city. I've walked by myself in the dark a thousand times."

"You don't know you won't get hurt."

"It's just the subway."

"Mutsuki was stolen from a hospital, Urie," Shirazu gasped, his voice pleading and his eyes huge. "A _hospital_. I was literally waking up from surgery when it happened. Ya could get snatched off the street and no one would blink twice."

Urie immediately opened his mouth to object, and it hung open as he pondered the reality of his words. Damn it, he was right. Even if Urie wanted to be independent and walk by himself, Shirazu had a very good point, and was right in this case. Urie wasn't safe by himself.

"Just this once," Urie agreed solemnly. "Let's not make this a regular thing." _My dad will skewer me after he flays me alive for stealing his gun, almost getting killed, and then defending a ghoul._

"Sure, sure," Shirazu laughed. "As you wish, and all that."

Urie scooped up the crumpled paper as he passed it.

The stepped out into the gathering flurries, and Urie raised his eyes to the sky. Snowflakes trembled against his eyelashes as he stepped forward. The sidewalk was damp. It'd freeze over in the morning.

"It'll get dark later soon," Shirazu said conversationally, his cheeks and nose already chapped and red from exposure to the cold. "Thank god."

"Not a fan of the winter, Shirazu?"

"Not a fan of the cold, Urie."

"Hm." Urie held a hand up to a flurry of flakes beneath the yellow shaft of lamplight. "I think it's pleasant. Stark and brisk. It's easy to sort out thoughts in the cold. You know what you want."

"Dude." Shirazu laughed, slapping him on the shoulder and causing Urie to jump. "You're so pretentious."

"Big word," Urie said coolly. "Who taught it to you?"

Shirazu flushed, clearly flustered but Urie's words. "Well!" He huffed, playing it off as a playful notion. Urie noted the shame in his eyes, and he suddenly felt guilty. Now, Urie wasn't an exceptionally nosy person, but he _did_ know that Shirazu struggled with literature and language classes while excelling in areas such as science. "If ya gotta know, it was Mutsuki."

"Did he use it to describe the creep you live with?" Urie asked dully.

"Creep?" Shirazu paused midstep, and Urie tried to figure out what he'd said wrong. Well, creep was a strong word, but he'd been intentionally intimidating Urie the previous night, which did not bode well. "You mean Kaneki?"

"Perceptive."

"Kaneki's not a creep!" Shirazu was very defensive, his voice booming across the entire street and turning several heads. Urie sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Whatever," he said. He stalked forward in long, quick strides.

"Ah. Wait, no. Urie, wait!" Shirazu jogged to catch up, slapping him on the shoulder again. "Last night was totally weird. He ain't actually like that!"

"Sure. Of course he isn't."

Shirazu's eyes were still huge. They were sadder now than they'd been before. They were starkly yellow in the glow of the streetlamp. Snowflakes were melting against his flushed, splotchy skin. Dusting a crown across his feathery yellow hair.

"I'm sorry he scared ya," Shirazu uttered faintly.

"I wasn't scared," Urie said coolly.

"Well," Shirazu muttered, " _I_  was. Kaneki can be scary. I don't know what it is about Mutsuki's disappearance, but he's… not himself lately. Can ya forgive him for being high strung?"

"No." Urie stepped forward toward the subway station. "I'll see you tomorrow, Shirazu."

"Huh—? Oh!" Shirazu sounded far more eager than he should have. "Right, I'll see ya!"

Urie glanced back at him. He offered a small smile. "Thanks for lying for me."

"Lying is easy," Shirazu said brightly. "It's telling the truth that's hard. Don't ya think?"

All at once, Urie was reminded of the scrap of paper in his fist that determined the course of his future. His fingers clenched around it, his head bowing beneath the cold curtain of pale yellow light descending from the lone lightbulb flickering above them. He watched his breath unfurl in a great puff, the revelation that his mistake would haunt him for life closing in on him. Lying _was_ easy. Urie could hardly say he ever told the truth, since it felt like every word he spoke was a lie of omission.

"Be careful," Urie said curtly, turning away from Shirazu. "On your way home. Just… yeah. Be careful, Shirazu."

"You too, man…"

As Urie descended the steps into the subway, he unfolded the scrap of paper in his fist, smoothing out the creases against his chest. He took one last look at the thinly veiled threat.

_YES/NO_

And beneath.

_FUTURE SPECIAL CLASS INVESTIGATOR URIE KUKI/JOB TERMINATION OF ASSOCIATE SPECIAL CLASS INVESTIGATOR URIE_

And beneath.

 _CHOOSE_.

This was how the game was played. Urie wasn't angry. He didn't fault Washuu Yoshitoki for playing dirty in order to get Urie to do what he wanted.

In fact, it was sort of admirable in a way.

At the very least he had this. This. _This_.

At worst it was a threat. At best it was a promise.

Urie had considered throughout the day the benefits of keeping this scrap of paper to prove Yoshitoki's corruption. Of course, Urie wasn't a fool, and around the third or fourth time reading it he realized something.

Nobody was going to fucking care that a Washuu had threatened his father's job.

He was a Washuu. He could do that. Urie had no power to object, and neither did his father. That was the way of the world, and he was stuck in it.

That is, until he climbed the ranks and became a Special Class Investigator. _Then_ at the very _least_ , the Washuus would have to confide in him.

When Urie exited the station near his home, he held the paper up to the yellow glow of the streetlamp. The words were faded and deformed against the plethora of creases.

In one swift movement, Urie tore it in half. In two swift movements, in three, in four, in five, he shredded the paper and listened to the satisfying _rrrip, rrrrrrip, rrrrrrrrrrrripping_ of it.

He tossed the fluttering shreds up paper up to the wind where they got caught amongst the snow, and he stuffed his cold, chapped hands into his pockets as he strode away from the fallen note.

* * *

She never thought she'd long for the fighting. The vicious words, the violent gestures, the vaulting fists of it. She never thought that silence could hurt more than the bite of an insult or the jab of a knee. She never thought. Wasn't that the fucking trouble, though? That she never fucking thought?

It had not been hard to explain. Ayato had sat quietly on their floor, his chin to his chest, his hair curling around his face and curtaining his features. He listened to her admit to her betrayal. He listened to her pleas, her soft, aching words that begged him not to tell. He listened to her place her life in his hands.

And then, when she was done, he lifted himself up, walked toward the door, and lingered in the entryway for an awful, drawn out minute.

"I'll help you free the dove," he said in a voice she had never heard him use before. It was cold and it was whispery and it was made from a sadness that he could not quite understand because he had left his heart at Anteiku. "Mutsuki. Take him and go."

"Ayato…" Her own voice wavered, the softness of it causing them both to shudder, as though they'd spent too long in the cold and their skin had become chapped and broken. Softness hurt to touch. It was so foreign to them now.

"Take him and go," Ayato repeated, his fingers bracing against the doorframe. They were white, and his blanched fingernails scratched uselessly against the chipping wood. "And never come back."

It was foolish to say yes. She had the CCG's collar around her throat, the leash more like a lash upon her skin than anything else. But she couldn't object. She couldn't disagree.

So she said, "Okay."

And he left her there to stew in her own guilt and shame.

And thus, the silence. See, Ayato didn't come back that night. She laid in the dark, her eyes soaking in the shadows and the creases of the room where the walls met the floor and ceiling and other walls. She thought about Ayato's words, how he had listened, how he had agreed to help her in exchange for her to simply leave. It was not a bad bargain. It was honestly a fair deal. She'd hurt him badly— she'd be a fool to not think so. She hurt him because she'd lied and she'd screwed him over and even when she left he would be here to clean up her mess.

She hadn't even told him that she'd done it for him. She didn't think it would bode well.

When Ayato returned the next day, he didn't speak. He didn't even look at her. If this had been any other day, any other time, any other fight, she would have called him stupid and immature. Only a child used the silent treatment. Only an idiot would think that would work.

But Ayato was showing so much restraint here. It was not like him to react to a betrayal with a level head, with silence instead of shouts, with mercy instead of malice. She needed to be thankful for what she had.

Even if that meant leaving Aogiri and never seeing Ayato again. It would be better, wouldn't it? To leave with Mutsuki as Ayato asked, as thanks for not turning her over to Tatara. Which he could easily do at any point.

But he wouldn't. Touka felt bad about it, but she'd known when she'd put that gun to her head that he wouldn't sell her out. And he knew that too. Maybe that was why.

It wasn't his maturity that called for this bout of silence. It was just that he knew, and she knew, that he simply _could not_ tell anyone about her betrayal. All it would result in was her death, and Mutsuki's death, and Ayato was not so utterly heartless.

So here they were. Sitting in a quiet room, his rage boiling up and over, a silent suffering that she had to turn the blind eye to.

He left later that day. She checked her phone to see if Kaneki had contacted her, but the screen was blank, and she found herself watching it for what felt like hours and hours of white noise singing in her brain. It was just a few minutes.

"Wakey, wakey."

Touka snapped the phone shut and tucked it into her pocket. She stood and brushed past Yamori, her hands stuffed into her pockets. "Let's get this over with," she said.

Mutsuki was more responsive today. He was awake, his tired eyes glazed over as she gingerly took the pliers from Yamori. When she knelt, she noted a dark smear dried across his lips and down his chin. She froze, staring at the boy in disbelief. The pliers weighed heavily in her hands.

"Oh," she said faintly.

Mutsuki's eyes averted sharply, avoiding her face at all costs.

"Get to work," Yamori said, decking her over the head with his mighty fist.

 _I will kill you_ , Touka thought dimly, as Yamori laughed and laughed and laughed at her hesitance and escalating panic, at Mutsuki's agonized screams and tearful breaths. The world was at a standstill. It was just her and him and the blood and the tears, and she thought she might give anything to make him smile, to hear him laugh, to alleviate even a fraction of his pain.

When it was done, Mutsuki was doubled over, his breaths swimming in the empty space, rattling against the rafters and beating at her chest at the pace of her unsteady heart.

"If that's all," she said in a thick, shaky voice, "I'm leaving." She tossed the pliers at Yamori's feet, her trembling fingers returning to her sides and clenching into fists.

"Not quite, little Kirishima." Yamori's large, meaty fingers fell over the crown of her head, pressing into her forehead as though to pry her scalp from her brain. "Come on, stay awhile. We're all friends here!"

He sounded out of breath, and when she looked up at him she saw his eyes were glazed over in a sort of euphoria that made her nauseous. Mutsuki was still trying to catch his breath, his shoulders shaking from the sobs. Her throat was all tight, and her kagune shifted uneasily beneath the skin of her shoulder blade. The tension in her was begging to be released, the demon in her itching to get out, the child in her ready to scream, the witch in her dying to be unleashed.

"I can't do any more to him," she said.

"This isn't about him. This is about you. Sit down."

He pushed her down beside Mutsuki's chair. Her jeans were caught in a puddle of blood. Great. They weren't even hers. Another reason for Ayato to hate her.

"Tatara is unhappy with my results," Yamori said, tapping Mutsuki's bowed head with the silver prong attached to his fingertip. "He wants me to terminate, but I'm not ready for that yet— I'm sure you feel the same way, hm?"

Touka sat, her bloody hands slapping against the floor as she lurched forward. "You can't!" she gasped. Mutsuki, if he was even hearing this, was unresponsive. "What— what can I do? What do you want?"

"There's a good girl," Yamori cooed, kneeling before her, his knee sinking into a puddle of blood. She recoiled when he reached for her face. "Just answer a few questions, that's all. Enough that I can go to Tatara, and this useless little dove can be deemed an asset."

Touka swallowed thickly, peeking through her eyelashes up at Mutsuki's face. Tears were drying on his sallow cheeks. He'd been drained of color these past few days. It made the blood on his cracked, dry lips even more striking than before.

"Okay," she said. "What do you want to know?"

"Is the CCG planning an attack on us?"

Touka made a noise that was something between a scoff and a laugh. "Of course they are," she said, raising her eyes to his. "Tatara doesn't need to torture anyone to figure that out."

"Well, how about you tell me when it's going to happen?" Yamori's wormy smile made her grimace. "That's not common information."

"No, it's not," she agreed icily. "Not even I know that."

"What a poor little spy you are, little Kirishima."

"Yeah, I'm downright shitty."

Yamori's smile only widened. She felt sick looking at him. "They're going to kill you," he cooed. He reached out, the metal claw on his index finger brushing against her cheek. She thwacked it away. "Idiot girl. Don't you get it? They're using you. They'll dispose of you once you outlive your usefulness. If you're lucky, they'll put you in Cochlea. There you'll just experience the same thing as our friend here!" Yamori patted Mutsuki's arm. Touka realized the boy had passed out. It was probably for the best.

"I don't need you to tell me what I already know," she said. "I don't trust the CCG. But I don't trust you either. Is that all?"

"Not quite." Yamori's eyes narrowed at her. He stood, stretching his legs and turning away. He cracked his finger. "When they come, I'll kill him. And you will watch. And then you will suffer too."

"Okay." Touka stood, brushing past him and taking long strides toward the door. "Whatever. Next time you want to lecture like a manga villain, do it to someone who gives a fuck."

She slammed the door behind her. For a moment she considered that she'd said the wrong thing, and that could have put Mutsuki in danger. But he was already in danger. She'd just tortured him.

 _I just have to wait this out,_ she thought numbly. _Ayato is going to help me. I just have to wait until the next time Yamori leaves_.

She jogged down the steps and made a beeline for the wing where her room was located. She stopped at the bathroom to scrub her hands for about an hour or so, give or take.

If she had any lick of sense, she'd just pummel Yamori into the dirt like he fucking deserved.

But she knew that was a fool's errand. She knew she couldn't beat Yamori by herself. So she just had to… let this all play out. If nothing else she had Ayato's word. And for once, that meant _everything_.

She collapsed onto her futon when she entered the room. Ayato was there, and she was immediately seized by the guilt and anxiety that plagued her due to the unfortunate rift in their relationship. It was bad enough that she felt useless and spent from what she'd done to Mutsuki, but now her throat was closing up, tears misting her vision, and she was just so exhausted of all of this.

Not so long ago, Kaneki had offered to force Tsukiyama to take her place here. She wished now more than ever that she'd accepted.

Ayato's voice made her whole body jerk a little in shock.

"You still have blood on you."

She wiped her nose hastily, sitting up and taking a deep breath. "No shit," she muttered, her voice thick from unshed tears. "Care to point out any other obvious details?"

"You're crying." Ayato was standing, as though he'd made his way to the door with the intention of leaving but had made the mistake of looking back at her for a moment.

"Fuck." Touka dashed the tears away furiously. It didn't work. The tears were overflowing. "Shit." She dug the heel of her palm into her eye. "Damn it…" She rubbed it violently, warm tears smearing against her hand.

Ayato stood and watched in silence. His arms were folded, as though he was taking amusement from the sight of her crying on the floor before him.

"It's your own fault," he said, "for getting caught."

"Shut the fuck up," she gasped, curling up into herself. "Shut up, stupid. Stupid brother. Stupid—!"

"If you hadn't gotten caught," Ayato said in a smooth, chilly voice, "would you have told me?"

Her eyes widened beneath her fists, and she exhaled shakily. She lowered her damp fingers from her eyes, raising her face to stare at his.

"Ayato…" she breathed.

"Forget it." His fingers clenched into fists. "I don't care."

"I know that's not true," Touka whispered.

"I don't care!" Ayato snapped. "You arrogant bitch! My life doesn't revolve around you! This— this is nothing. If you weren't my sister, you'd be dead."

"If I wasn't your sister," she said quietly, "I wouldn't have told you."

"Then you'd be stuck suffering under Yamori's thumb for life," he hissed, his eyes narrowing sharply. "You're so stupid. I hate you so fucking much!"

"That's fair," she admitted, sniffling into her hand. "Ayato… I know it doesn't mean much, but… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what this is doing to you."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Touka," he said coldly.

"I know," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Pack your shit," Ayato said flatly. "Be ready to leave at any moment."

She wanted to yell, to scream and plead and screech and cry some more, but it was too late for all that so she settled for sitting miserably on the floor while Ayato glared at her. She couldn't even fight him. That might be the worst part. There was no _wrong_ here, it was just both of them knowing that nothing in the world could make this better, so they had to wallow in it.

Acceptance was so hard to swallow.

Touka picked up her phone from the floor, and she noticed, with a sudden thunderstruck horror, that Kaneki had texted her while she'd been with Yamori. She flipped the phone open, grasping it with trembling hands as she read his text hastily.

"Shit," she uttered distantly, her hand lowering to her side. She stared at the wall, the information settling in her head and in her heart like a handful of stones. She sensed Ayato's bemusement as she snapped the phone in half and flung it away. "God damn it!"

"What?" Ayato asked with a great huff in his voice. "What now?"

"They're coming," she said, pushing herself to her feet and snatching her mask. "The doves are attacking tonight." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bucina, bucinae.  
> (curved) trumpet; war trumpet.


	29. seminex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay!! finally got to this chapter! this is also a chap i've been planning since the beginning. i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> also, it's my last week of school. on one hand, ew finals. no writing is gonna get done. on the other!! no more school! yay!

To his credit, Ayato looked stricken with shock. His face had blanched, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. Then, his whole body seemed to coil up. "What have you done?" he hissed, not for the first time that week.

Dodging the blame was hard when all of his hatred was focalized on her. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't targeted Mutsuki," she snapped. Ayato jerked back, as though perhaps he had not expected her to retaliate. As though because she knew her responsibility in this to be true, that she had to accept _full_ responsibility. And honestly? Fuck that. " _You_ went into that hospital knowing you were after a dove. _You_ didn't object to Tatara's intentions on capturing a dove. Even though you knew it would bring the CCG down on this place. Everything that's happening is because _someone_ thought it'd be funny to steal a kid from the CCG, and when he wasn't useful you just tossed him into the trash like he was nothing! I've done my fair share of damage, but you can't pin it all on me!"

She heaved a deep breath, her fists clenching at her side. Her rage fueled her, reminded her that she was Kirishima Touka, and she would bring the whole damn world to its knees.

"You literally came here just to give up info to them," Ayato hissed, taking three quick steps closer to her and snatching her by the front of her shirt. "Idiot! They didn't even tell you they were coming until it was too late! They'll just kill you along with any other ghoul that gets in their way!"

"Maybe you're right," she said in a small, shaky voice. "But that doesn't change the fact that the doves would attack whether I came here or not!"

"You don't know that!" Ayato shoved her, and her shoes scraped across the cool cement, her shoulders bumping up against the wall. "You fucked up everything! Don't you get it? It doesn't matter if this was your fault or my fault— you _still_ betrayed me! How the hell am I supposed to act? What do you want me to say? I can't act like I'm not pissed!"

"You have every right to be pissed!" she cried, throwing out her arms as though asking him to take his best shot. "I'm not gonna pretend like I didn't hurt you— I know I did, and I'm _sorry_! But what I did… what it was for… I have to believe it was worth it!"

"What was it all for?" Ayato snapped. His expression was so strained and stark, so confused and angry, and she just couldn't fathom how they could never be on the same side, not once, not ever. "You're just going to die with the rest of us. You're no better just because you're a disgrace to your kind. Get a grip! You won't be saved for being a snitch."

"You don't _get_ it!" She shook her head furiously, bringing her arms back to her chest and hugging them tightly to her. "I'm trying my best. Ayato, please, I know you hate me, and you have every reason to, but I… this… all of this… it was because you were here."

"What?" Ayato asked flatly, his eyes narrowing sharply at her face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Touka took a deep breath, and her spine curved against the wall. "Originally," she said in a small voice, "the spy was not me. I thought it was a crazy idea, and… I wanted nothing to do with it. And then I found out that you were here. Working for Aogiri. Which was the target of the doves. Ayato, I couldn't. What was I supposed to do?"

"Leave me alone," Ayato hissed, "like a decent person would?"

"Well I'm not fucking decent, am I?" she snapped. "No. I'm not. You should know better than to assume I'd be goddamn decent. No. I was not going to sit by and let the CCG swoop in on you, no way. Especially not with a spy who didn't give a shit about you. So I stepped in. I convinced everyone that I was the better candidate, and then I came here. For you."

"For me," Ayato said coldly. "Sure. Let's say for a sec that I believe that. Do you honestly think you can protect me? You can barely protect yourself!"

"There's more danger than just bodily harm, Ayato," Touka sighed.

"Yeah," Ayato spat. "Like the sweet sting of betrayal, right?"

 _Shit,_ Touka thought dully _. He's got me beat there._

"I know it doesn't mean much," she said softly, "but I…" She paused for a beat. She couldn't say it. "I really am sorry."

"You're right, it means jack shit, Touka." Ayato folded his arms across his chest and glared at the wall. "Stupid big sis. Can't you take a hint? I don't need your help _or_ your love, so just beat it!"

It seemed she didn't need to say it after all. He'd heard loud and clear.

"Uh, knock knock?" A hulking man had appeared at the door, tapping gingerly against the peeling paint of the doorframe. She recognized Banjou's nervous face, his eyes averting sharply. "Tatara wanted to speak with you two. He said it was urgent."

"Incredible," Ayato muttered. "Whatever. Let's go."

"Ayato," Touka breathed, catching him by the sleeve as he began to march forward. He paused briefly, his mouth disappearing into his fat, purple scarf as his eyes flicked beneath his lashes at her. "What are we going to do?"

"What is this _we_?"

Banjou shifted uncomfortably, as though the last thing he wanted was to be thrown in the middle of a sibling spat. His mighty shoulder brushed up against the doorframe, and he craned his neck to peer outside the room.

Touka took a deep breath. She dropped his arm, and she shoved him aside. "Fine," she spat. "I'll do this myself."

Ayato dragged her back by the shoulder, his fingernails biting into her shoulder and his teeth baring at her dangerously. "Like hell you are," he hissed. "Let's _go._ We have to deal with Tatara."

"I thought there was no _we_ ," she said coolly.

"God damn," Ayato groaned, shoving her through the doorway and stomping after her. "Just _move_."

Banjou moved aside, throwing Touka a cautious glance. She met his gaze tiredly, her shoulders rising and falling heavily. What was happening here was utterly unbearable. Ayato couldn't decide if he hated her enough to let her die, and she was stuck in limbo as a result.

They moved quickly, quietly through the desolate building. Wanting to go home wasn't enough. She'd have to fight for what she wanted, and for once she was not completely on board with fighting, because she could not see an end in sight. She could not even see her enemy, two steps ahead of her, leading her to the chopping block.

She wondered when she'd become so blind. If maybe she'd been blind all her goddamn life.

Her and her brother stepped shoulder and shoulder up to Tatara's makeshift throne. He was sprawled lazily, like they were not worth his time, and it shot her blood pressure up just to look at his small, sunken eyes.

"The doves are encamped in the woods," Tatara said calmly. Touka knew she needed to act shocked, so she opened her mouth and she widened her eyes and she shared a look with Ayato. He merely stiffened, his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing. "Don't think I don't see that face, Ayato. I'm in no mood for an 'I told you so.'"

"I didn't say anything," Ayato said, folding his arms across his chest.

"You didn't have to." Tatara's eyes flickered dully to Touka's face. "Kirishima, you look pale. Don't tell me you're scared."

Touka swallowed thickly, and she straightened upright. "No, sir," she said firmly. "I'm anything but afraid."

That seemed to satisfy him a great deal, for the corners of his eyes seemed to wrinkle in mirth. "Good," he said. "Then you won't mind being placed in the front sector of the north building."

Touka knew what that meant, and she knew it was meant to shake her. So she showed no sign of discomfort, her chin rising high as she nodded curtly. Ayato, however, seemed to blanch.

"You can't put her on the frontlines," he said flatly.

"Can't I?" Tatara's voice was cool and challenging. Touka eyed Ayato, and she set her hand gently on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off viciously.

"You _can't_." He took a step forward, throwing an arm out furiously. "You know I'm stronger! She'll be completely useless, and you know it! Let me handle the front."

"What—? Wait a minute—!" Touka objected, throwing a desperate glance at Tatara.

"Quiet." Tatara waved her into silence, which caused a great amount of rage to toil up inside her, clawing up her chest and begging to be released. "Ayato, if you're offering to take the front, I won't stop you."

"Cool." Ayato turned away. "I'm going to get our masks. Touka?"

"Y-yeah…" She turned to leave after him.

"Kirishima." Tatara's biting voice caused her to pause. "I want you to stay with our sniper on an upper level balcony."

Her fingernails bit into her palms. She wanted to stay with Ayato.

"Why are you separating us?" she asked fiercely. "You must know we're stronger together!"

"With the Bin Brothers out of commission, we have to distribute our power throughout the base as best we can." Tatara blinked down at her. "It's nothing personal."

"The Bin Brothers are out of commission _because_ they were separated!" Touka cried. She saw Ayato shoot her a bewildered look. "Come on! They're going to send their stronger investigators in first to carve a path for the weaker ones! You need us to be together, to cut them off. The Bin Brothers are gone, but Ayato and I can use coordinated attacks just as well— no, actually, fuck that! I fought the Bin Brothers! Do you honestly think if I can beat them by my goddamn self that Ayato and I aren't stronger than they are?"

Tatara's expression, from what she saw of it, was not entirely amused. In fact, she had totally pissed him off, and it was fucking glorious.

Ayato didn't even object, because he had to know it was true. The Bin Brothers had nothing on them. It was almost funny, huh? She'd killed one of them, and now she was taking their place.

"Fine," Tatara sighed. "Just go."

Touka whirled away to hide a grin that caused Ayato's eyes to roll back into his skull. He marched from the room while she treaded lightly.

"Shit," she said vacantly aloud as they walked through the halls once more, the extremity of it all settling between them.

"Yeah," Ayato said in a similar tone. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. He kicked a scrap of wood that had come off the inner paneling of a wall.

"I know I said I'd fight with you," she said quietly, "but… I have to go get Mutsuki."

"Fuckin'—!" Ayato's teeth gnashed violently, his mouth clamping shut as though he was forcing himself to keep calm down. "Why? Why the fuck can't we just wait until _after_ we deal with this?"

"Um, because Yamori told me he was going to kill Mutsuki when the doves showed up," Touka snapped. "That's why."

Ayato paused. He stood for a moment in the dimly lit hall, his head lowering a bit. She heard him take a deep breath.

"What the hell are we going to do?" she asked, shooting a glance in the direction of the stairwell that led to the higher levels. The highest level.

Ayato stood a few feet in front of her, snapping a piece of sheetrock beneath his boot. He rested his chin against his shoulder as he glanced back at her dully.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked in a voice that was cold and that was furious. "We're going to kill Yamori."

* * *

"We _will_ find him." The day was dimming into night, and Koutarou Amon was a sole source of inspiration. "Don't give up hope, Kaneki. Believe in him."

"All I believe," Kaneki said, "is that this took too damn long."

"You are literally the most pessimistic person I've ever met," Shirazu declared. "Come _on,_ Kanekun! We gotta believe we're gonna save him!"

Kaneki thought it was pretty unfair that everyone around him thought that he was being pessimistic, when in reality he was just keenly aware of what Mutsuki was going through at the moment.

Prior to the commencement of the operation, Amon had visited Kaneki's apartment with two sheets of paper and a sad smile.

"What is this?" Kaneki asked as Shirazu emerged from the kitchen, a square of half eaten butter mochi in his fist.

"Your wills." Amon had shrugged off his coat as he'd entered the living room, throwing it over his arm and sighing. "I know it's morbid, but it's customary for all investigators to write their last will and testament before an operation. Just in case."

"Oh," Kaneki said faintly. "Fabulous."

"Are we gonna die?" Shirazu asked flippantly through a mouthful of mochi. Kaneki offered the paper to him to glance at, and he wiped his fingers off on his old, flannel pajama pants.

"No, Shirazu," Amon said gently. "This is just a precaution. In case something does happen."

"The operation is tonight," Kaneki mused, glancing over the blank piece of paper dully. "Could it be any more short notice? I can't think of anything to write."

Shirazu swallowed his mochi very hard. "I can," he said quietly. He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a solemn silence behind him.

Kaneki watched him, wanting to say something, to say anything, but anything was not enough.

So instead he said to Amon, "What did you write?"

Amon merely shrugged. "I have no family," he admitted, glancing around the room. He wandered over to a bookshelf Kaneki had recently installed. "Honestly? I left all my money and belongings to a charity."

"Oh, how noble," Kaneki said. He didn't mean it to sound sarcastic, and he winced when Amon shot him a look. "I meant that, I swear. What charity?"

"It's a foster program for children whose families were destroyed by ghouls," Amon said slowly. Kaneki blinked at him in mild wonder. "Ah, don't look at me like that. Options are pretty limited for those kids, and most of them end up at one junior academy or another. Most others end up in psychiatric hospitals. The rest are dumped in homes. This program is under-funded and often ignored because of the system the CCG has in place for kids who have nowhere else to go. But to be honest, I think it's unfair to force children to train to become an investigator before they're old enough to make the choice for themselves."

"I never would have thought you were interested in something like that," Kaneki said.

"Why?" Amon frowned at him. "Do I seem so cold and detached, Kaneki, that I don't care about needy children?"

"Not what I meant," Kaneki chuckled nervously, "and you know it."

Amon shrugged. "I'm not sure what you meant, or what I know." He drew his index finger over the spines of the books Kaneki had compiled. He paused, and he glanced down at Kaneki with tired eyes. "You should really fill out the will."

"If I die, I won't regret not writing it," Kaneki said calmly.

"No," Amon replied, turning his face forward, "but the people who care about you will get nothing but the corpse you leave behind. It's cruel of you to deprive them of some peace."

"I have nothing to give," Kaneki blurted.

"That's not what this is about, Kaneki," Amon said, his index finger lingering on _Purgatorio_ and drawing it carefully from its place on the shelf, "and you know it."

He flipped the book open and began to read. "'Then folk I saw inflamed by anger's fire who, bent on killing a young man with stones, cried to each other naught but: "Kill him, kill!" And him I saw, bowed to the ground in death which now oppressed him; of his eyes he e'er made gates of Heaven, and in that anguish prayed the Lord on high with looks which unlock pity, that He his persecutors would forgive.'"

"Uplifting," Kaneki said.

Amon drew his fingers up to his face, first resting them against his chin and then pressing them to his lower lip thoughtfully. His brows were furrowed, his eyes flickering through the Italian words at a pace that escaped Kaneki.

He clapped the book shut and placed it back in the gap-toothed smile of bookcase. "I was raised christian," he said suddenly.

"I gathered," Kaneki said cautiously. "I was under the impression you were no longer religious."

"You would be correct."

"Was there a reason for that?" Kaneki didn't mean to pry, but he was too curious to resist.

Amon closed his eyes. A strange, strenuous silence fell between them.

And then he spoke in a tone of drifting and distance.

"I trusted my religion implicitly," he said. "And it betrayed me. That is all there is."

"Really?" Kaneki blinked. "All there is? Nothing more?"

"No," Amon said. "Nothing."

So Kaneki nodded. "Then that is all there is," he said, turning toward the table, "and nothing more."

He filled out his will quickly, folded it twice, and handed it to Amon without another word.

Now he stood in the cold and the dark, Shirazu fidgeting at his side and Amon taking full responsibility for them. For tonight, they were really a makeshift squad. Kaneki was pleased that he'd been present to _see_ Amon be handed a photo by Shinohara and told that it was imperative to keep that ghoul alive.

He had not been present when Yoshitoki had broken the news, but he could feel the tension here tonight, and holy shit.

Honestly, he didn't think he'd love it this much, but _feeling_ the doves squirm was making all this bullshit totally worth it at this point.

"Is it starting?" Shirazu asked suddenly, sounding nervous and fearful. Kaneki couldn't blame him. They had trained together, minimally, but he didn't think it was enough for him to be prepared for an operation of this scale. Kaneki had wanted him to stay away from all of this, but Shirazu had been given direct orders, and here he was.

Shirazu's face was stark and horrified when the first wave of investigators were shot down.

"Oh, shit," Kaneki breathed, jerking away sharply and looking around. There was shouting all around now. A sniper? A ghoul sniper? Now where the fuck did he get the gun? Kaneki felt a little guilty for not knowing there was going to be a sniper, even though he couldn't have known. "Back it up, Shirazu."

"But—!" Shirazu struggled as Kaneki caught him by the furred hood of his olive green jacket. Amon was too preoccupied to really comment, but he did nod approvingly in Kaneki's direction. Which was nice.

"This isn't good," Amon muttered, returning to them with a solemn look on his face. "We can't go any further without taking out the sniper."

Kaneki considered it. He didn't think a few bullets would do anything to him, as long as they weren't Q Bullets. He turned to Amon hopefully. "Hey, Amon, what if I—?"

"Absolutely not," Amon said calmly.

"Um," Kaneki said, "and why not?"

"Amon," Shinohara said, stepped toward them cautiously. "You haven't even heard the boy out. Let him speak."

"I know what he was going to say," Amon informed Shinohara, "and I'm not interested in hearing such a foolhardy plan."

"Wait," Shirazu gasped, "what were you gonna say, Kanekun?"

"Um," Kaneki said, "that I can probably kill the sniper? If that'll speed things along."

"Sniper?" Suzuya Juuzou appeared from seemingly nowhere, parting Amon and Shinohara and peering through a circle made from their thumb and forefinger like a scope. "Where? Is that why we're not doing anything?"

"Basically," Kaneki told them. He and Suzuya hadn't really spoken since their argument, and Kaneki couldn't tell if Suzuya was the type to hold a grudge.

"We aren't able to attack," Amon sighed, folding his arms across his chest and watching Suzuya as though observing a child trying to do stretches. Suzuya was doubled over, their non-scope hand on their knee. "We're being sniped at from one of the upper floors."

"Why don't we just go around?" Suzuya asked vacantly, whirling their fingers in the air loopily.

"That's too risky." Amon shook his head. "We don't know how many troops they have waiting to ambush us."

"I can get through," Kaneki said. "Just give me the chance!"

"Kaneki," Amon said, eying him tiredly, "those guns were stolen from _us_. You can't heal wounds made by Q Bullets."

Ah. Shit, so they _were_ Q Bullets. Kaneki grimaced, and he glanced at the war path ahead of them. It was littered with the bodies of investigators who had already been shot.

"I could still—!"

"No." Amon shook his head. "I won't allow it. Stay by Shirazu."

Suzuya shot him a knowing smirk when Kaneki puffed out a breath between his teeth. Shirazu held his briefcase tightly in both hands.

"Is that your quinque?" Suzuya asked him, pointing to it boldly. Shirazu blinked, and he looked down at the briefcase. "Can I see it?"

Shirazu blinked, and he shrugged, moving to open the briefcase. Shinohara stopped him by laying a heavy hand over his. "Don't indulge him," Shinohara sighed. "Juuzou will steal your quinque in a heartbeat. Juuzou, your Scorpion is perfectly suited for your duties here tonight. Don't get too ambitious."

"Hmm…" Suzuya's lips flattened out into a thin line as they lifted their head back and rolled their shoulders. "Hmmmmmm… I want to see Amon's quinque soon. It was a what-kaku?"

"Koukaku." Shinohara sighed again. "Amon is an expert at handling the heavy types."

"Huh," Suzuya said. They offered out their hands to Amon. "Please lend it to me."

"No way," Amon said, turning away from Suzuya sharply.

Kaneki laughed, causing Shirazu to laugh, and soon they were both laughing against each other despite neither of them being in any sort of mood for laughing.

While they were laughing, a man had appeared and pulled Shinohara aside. Kaneki thought he must be high ranking, considering the hush that had fallen over everyone around them. Shirazu and Kaneki were supporting each other, Shirazu still laughing into Kaneki's shoulder, the fur of his hood tickling Kaneki's cheek.

"Shinohara," Kaneki heard Suzuya ask in their small, delicate voice, "whose is that?"

Kaneki raised his head and followed Suzuya's gaze to a motorcycle parked against a wall.

"Oh, that? That's Marude's bike." Shinohara glanced at it offhandedly. "He rode it on site because he wanted to show it off."

Kaneki glanced between Shinohara and Suzuya. He patted Shirazu on the back to get him to stand up straight, and he watched Suzuya slink off without warning. _What is that kid doing_ , he wondered vacantly. Part of him didn't even care, but another part, a smarter part, was determined to find out.

As Shinohara and the higher ranking investigator spoke, Suzuya returned with a bounce in their step. They noticed Kaneki watching them, and they put their index finger over their mouth. Kaneki continued to watch as they wheeled the motorcycle directly into the center of the concrete walkway that led to the first building.

Kaneki glanced between Suzuya and the building.

No fucking way.

He watched Suzuya produce a key.

Kaneki scooped up his own briefcase from the ground, and he clapped Shirazu on the shoulder. "No matter what happens," he said, "stick with Amon."

Shirazu looked at him like he had just ripped his heart out. Which, essentially, Kaneki probably had, and he was guilty and all but he needed to get into that building as soon as possible.

Kaneki sprinted up to the bike and threw his leg over the back of the seat. Suzuya didn't take up much room. "You mind if I tag along?" Kaneki asked as Suzuya put the key into the ignition.

"Can I borrow your quinque?" they asked, revving the motorcycle.

"Sure."

He could almost _feel_ the eerie smile that appeared on their lips.

"Hold on tight," they said.

Kaneki did. He threw both arms around Suzuya's waist, the briefcase biting into their side as they revved the motorcycle again. Marude was screaming at them, calling them idiots as he rushed at them. Kaneki caught a glimpse of Amon's and Shinohara's faces, bleak and pale with shock as they shouted at them to stop. Shirazu simply looked stunned.

And then with a gut wrenching lurch, they were speeding forward, gaining an alarming amount of speed and momentum until finally they were airborne.

It was kind of like a rollercoaster except there was no safety bar, no track, and no plausible outcome other than like, death. But Kaneki felt like Suzuya probably knew what they were doing. Right? Except suddenly Suzuya was standing up on the plummeting bike, and Kaneki had to stand up too.

He flicked his briefcase open and caught his sword in his fist. Suzuya leapt, gun in hand, their small body zipping like a bullet toward the balcony. Kaneki needed to put more strength in his jump, kicking off with his calves and driving all his weight forward into his sword, which he clutched with both hands.

The sword landed in the neck of a ghoul, sinking in deep and giving Kaneki the stability he needed to crouch upon his shoulders, gripping the sword and balancing with his body hunched over the dying man. Gunshots rang all around him. He tore the sword out as the body began to slump, and he kicked off it wildly, slicing through the first red cloak he saw and ducking the next. That one got shot in the head, so he skewered the next. He slid under Suzuya's extended arm to kick the legs out from under a ghoul, and carve a line into his trachea. Gunshots continued to blast inside his brain, his arms working away, moving as though the sword itself was his kagune. He delivered a swift uppercut to his last ghoul, blood spraying hotly across his face as he kicked the ghoul down breathlessly.

Kaneki watched, mildly sickened as Suzuya gathered up some of the heads that Kaneki had managed to detach.

"Do you want the credit for all of this?" Kaneki breathed.

"Nope," Suzuya said simply. "I just wanted to kill them."

Kaneki closed his eyes. _I've befriended worse_ , he told himself. _Suzuya's really no different than a ghoul_.

"You can enter now!" Suzuya sang, lifting the severed heads into the air and waving them at the troops outside.

There was a sudden uproar and stampede of footfalls.

Kaneki tossed his quinque at Suzuya's feet when they dropped the heads.

"Have a ball," he said. "Want to help me cut my way to Mutsuki?"

Suzuya looked down at the sword, and then up at Kaneki. They grinned.

* * *

"We have to hurry this up," Ayato grumbled, rolling up his sleeves and shooting a glance behind him. "The sniper won't hold up for long. If this takes too long, one of us needs to go to the first or second building to hold off the doves."

"Are you volunteering?" Touka teased him, raising her masked face toward the stairwell that led to Mutsuki.

"Jeez." Ayato's eyes rolled violently beneath his black rabbit mask. "Sure, fine. I'll do all the goddamn work."

"Ayato," she said, moving her head so her starry mask was directly in front of his face. "We _are_ stronger together. That wasn't a lie."

He stared at her, his dark eyes narrowing beneath the mask. He averted his gaze sharply. "I know," he said.

"Then believe in me," she said, offering out her hand.

"Give me a reason to," he said coolly, swatting her hand away and starting up the stairs.

Well. She deserved that.

Ayato went in first, throwing the doors open and marching into the vacuous room, his boots clicking against the stained checkered tile. Touka stood at the door, lurking quietly in the doorway as Ayato kicked over the bucket of toes and fingers, causing Mutsuki to jolt.

"Ayato," Yamori greeted dully. He had his Jason mask on, which Touka noted with some degree of disgust. His eyes met hers, and she was certain he was grinning. "And little Kirishima. My, my! What an unusual occurrence! Let me guess— you're here to fight."

"Close the door, sis." Ayato circled Mutsuki's chair, his fingers dragging against the back of it as he hovered almost defensively over Mutsuki's bowed head. Touka obeyed, quietly entering the room while shooting a glower at Yamori's face. "I didn't want it to come to this."

"Then why, pray tell, are you even here?" Yamori offered out his arms in a sort of inquisition, his chin raised high and his eyes all aglow. "This isn't your kind of thing. Simply put, you just don't care for others, Ayato. And you know it."

"All I know," Ayato said coolly, "is that I told you to stay away from my sister. And what do you fucking do?"

"Oh, is that what this is about?" Yamori rolled his eyes. "She's fine. I've barely touched her!"

A quiet voice breathed shakily, "Liar."

A hush fell over the room as all eyes trailed to Mutsuki. The fury in Yamori's eyes could be felt as it rolled from him in waves. He moved, faster than Touka could blink, his fist blurring through the air on a path meant to bash Mutsuki into the floor. Ayato was faster.

He slid Mutsuki's chair out of the way and ducked beneath Yamori's arm, catching it mid-punch and roundhouse kicking the man in the jaw. Yamori went skidding across the checkered tile, dragging Ayato with him. This was the best chance Touka had. She sprinted, skidding onto her knees and stopping at Mutsuki's feet. She grasped the chain link of the shackles around his ankles, and she tore them apart with a mighty _clang_. Mutsuki raised his eyes to hers.

"You're here," he said faintly.

Her heart tugged painfully at the disbelief that shook his voice. "Told you I would be," she said softly, hoping she didn't sound too defensive.

"You shouldn't," he breathed, his tired eyes fluttering closed. "You… you'll get hurt… you'll—!"

Touka pushed herself up off the floor, listening to the sound of feet scraping across tile, a boot meeting flesh, vague grunts and hisses floating around them. She took Mutsuki's face in her hands and forced him to look into her eyes.

"For once in your life," she said, "worry about yourself."

Mutsuki's eyes widened, and she thought perhaps she saw a flicker of light spark behind them. As if to show her that Yamori had not snuffed it out completely.

Her fingertips slid from his cheeks before she rounded the back of chair. The side of her hand slashed through the metal with a _hiss_ and a _clank_ , but no more struggle than a knife sliding through butter. The moment Mutsuki's hands were separated, they tore apart from one another like repulsing magnets, his shoulders hunching and slumping in one swift movement. And then, without warning, Mutsuki lurched to his feet and dove aside. Touka realized too late why.

She was sent sprawling on her back, a fist around her throat, crushing her trachea and cracking her head back against the tile. It shuddered beneath her, glass _cracking_ uneasily beneath her skull and shoulders. She dug her knee into Yamori's stomach to no avail, squirming beneath his weight. She couldn't breathe, her lungs begging for air and deflating painfully without sustenance.

There was no way for her to even seen Yamori's face, for her vision was momentarily impaired by the blow to her head and the restriction of air to her lungs.

With all the suddenness that it had come with, the pressure relented and left her gasping and wheezing, a bout of severe, biting coughs tore up and out of her throat. She found herself being pulled upright, cold fingers supporting the back of her neck. She could smell the sweat and grime on Mutsuki's skin before his stark face came into view.

The room was glowing with the radiant hues of two kagune colliding. It was a humbling sight, to see Ayato in this light, his wings extending the breadth of both of them combined and his body moving at an alarming speed. It was difficult to admit, but not even she could make so many dodges and blows in barely a breath.

Touka had never seen Ayato fight like this, not even when they'd fought Tsukiyama.

"Oh," she said faintly, watching Ayato scale back and unleash a flechette barrage down upon Yamori's suddenly shielded body. _That,_ she thought faintly, racking her brain for the right word to describe the sight of a kagune curling around someone's body like an exoskeleton. _**That**_ _. Disgusting. Thief. Taboo. Sin. Monster._

The shards of gleaming kagune chinked right off the armor coiled taut around Yamori.

 _Cannibal_.

"If you'd quit it," Yamori snapped, "for just a _second_ , you'd know that you're being played for a fool!"

Touka blinked as she was gently pulled up, her feet dragging against the floor as she was deposited onto them. Mutsuki gripped her bicep, staring at her intently as though questioning what their next move was. As though he would not move without her consent first.

"Thanks," she muttered, letting her hand fall against his head and ruffle his hair absently. He bowed against her touch, and she quickly withdrew out of fear of breaching his personal space. She'd done enough hurting, probably, for a lifetime or two. It was only fair that she respect his boundaries.

"Just," Ayato snarled, reeling in and catching Yamori's shoulder with his wing, "shut," he rasped, kicking off Yamori's chest, " _up!_ "

Yamori stumbled back. Ayato was an ukaku, and Yamori was a rinkaku, and by all natural order there should be no competition especially when Yamori had ate his way up the food chain. But Ayato was beating him back, making a show of his strength and prowess in a way that Touka had never seen before. It was like he'd been holding back at the ghoul restaurant, like he'd withheld some of his strength on the count of Touka's own limitations.

But now he didn't seem to give a fuck.

Something struck her chest like a pin through her heart, and she didn't know if it was envy or pride. All she knew was that she was in awe over the rapid strokes his two wings manages smooth through the air, and that was enough.

When the wings met armor, it drew a strange sort of spark, like metal grinding and spitting. Touka jumped when a cold, clammy hand closed around hers. Bony fingers dug into her palm, and she looked up at Mutsuki curiously.

"How…?" Mutsuki uttered in awe. "How can do this when he's…? He's not big, or strong, or old, or lucky enough to… to have an RC type that could reasonably defeat Yamori's. He's got nothing. So how… is he winning?"

"Because he's my brother," Touka said, not fully understanding her own words or the truth in them. "That's how."

She untangled her hand from Mutsuki's, and she started forward.

"She lied to you," Yamori laughed, after a particularly vicious lunging on Ayato's part had sliced through the armor. "Idiot boy, she _played_ you! She's a dirty little rat, a spy for the doves, and you keep on defending her like a lost puppy in need of a master! Pathetic."

Ayato had stopped dead in his tracks. His boots screeched against the tile as he wound back, wings aflame and aglow and bathing the whole wide room in a soft crimson hue.

"That's right," Yamori gasped, "she's a traitor and a liar, and you fell for it all! You incredible fool! You—!"

Touka's kagune tore through her shoulder as she flung it down upon Yamori, slicing through his back and kicking him towards Ayato. Without missing a beat, Ayato jumped up and kicked Yamori back, sending him sprawling across the floor.

She'd gotten him right were the skin met the armor. She watched the blood smear across the tile.

Touka and Ayato stepped in time, approaching Yamori's crouched body slowly. He was heaving, looking crazed and sounding worse with throaty laughs falling unsteadily from his lips.

Ayato lunged first, wings curling around him and angling to catch his chest. Yamori caught him by the ankle and flung him into a wall, which caused a crash that shook the entire room. Touka took advantage of this distraction by sliding beneath his arm and driving her heel into his chin. He was knocked back several meters, and open to another attack. Her kagune sliced easily through his open chest, uncovered and bare for the beating.

Blood appeared like beads of dew on a wire and then more like a waterfall on rocks, and she'd never been so glad to see such a gruesome sight.

Ayato came flying from behind, his feet driving into the soft spot at the small of Yamori's back. "Who's the idiot now, huh?" he spat.

For a moment Yamori lay so still that Touka thought maybe they'd done it. It felt anticlimactic, but some fights just _were_. You couldn't change that. Touka had watched half Yamori's organs pour out just a minute before, so it was nothing all that surprising.

Without warning and with one swoop, Yamori twisted his head and dug his teeth into the meat of Ayato's calf. A terrible scream twisted through the air, catching her heart like twitching talons and threatening to pry it from her chest with a great explosion of blood. It was true enough that Touka had heard some terrible screams in her life, for she had killed and she had tortured and she had deeply regretted being born long enough. But never had she heard Ayato make such a noise. Not when the doves had come when they'd been children, not when they'd been huddled in the street on a cold winter night with his tears freezing against her threadbare sweater, not when he'd killed his first human by accident and ran half screaming, half sobbing under a bridge to wallow and wait for Touka to bring him the carefully extracted remains in chunks so that it might not look so human. Not even when they'd fought Tsukiyama the first time and failed so miserably, his leg gushing and his face hard.

Touka leapt over Yamori and caught Ayato by his hood, dragging him away before Yamori managed to knock him down and start feasting.

 _This is why I'm here_ , she thought, landing in a crouch as Ayato clamped his hand over his wound to staunch the blood flow. _To protect. To shield. That's right. I must have lost sight of that somewhere along the way. Aogiri? CCG? What does any of that matter in the grand scheme of things? Damn it, Touka, wake the hell up! It's never been about anything but Ayato, and even if he hates me, even if I lose all hope, even if the stars fall out of the sky and scorch the whole goddamn earth, I_ _ **won't**_ _give up._

She'd never been good at sitting idly on the sidelines and taking the bullshit life threw at her.

Yamori had made her feel so weak. The nauseated sensation that knotted her stomach, clawed at her heart and hollowed her out, was an ever present discomfort. She could not remember the last time she had felt something akin to peace, and that _really_ pissed her off. To feel sick for days on end because of the actions of someone else was like being poisoned and needing to cleanse the system.

She'd cleanse Yamori right out of her fucking life. Hell, she'd cleanse Yamori right out of _existence_!

Touka kicked off the ground, a flechette attack of her own spouting out and consuming Yamori as he struggled to his feet, his stomach still bleeding profusely. They jutted out of his bare arm and sunk deep into his already mangled stomach, because he didn't seem to feel a thing. He was still lurching forward toward them even through the storm of bright shards sailing through the air and sinking into him.

She sprung aside as he tore at her, her kagune crystallizing in a reddened shell as little arms shot out to slice at her. She used it as a shield and then unraveled the hardened shell to push Yamori away. The force sent him flying into the opposite wall, dust coughing up as the walls shook and the floor cracked.

That didn't seem to break Yamori's resolve. He was still coming, tearing away from the wall and flinging his monstrous kakuja at her, shattering the tile when she darted away. Her kagune was ill suited for this battle, and Yamori knew it. He was still laughing.

"What did you think?" he rasped, his anger tearing through the air as his kagune kicked up shards of tile and flung it at her. It bounced harmlessly off her skin, but she found herself momentarily blind in the dust. She had to throw herself into a wall to avoid the massive arm that tangled around Yamori and threatened to engulf her. "A weak little rabbit could beat the hunting hound? Remember your place!"

She leapt up and found herself balancing on the unstable arm of his kakuja, using her one wing to slice once, twice, thrice against the armor. It dented and cracked, a laceration appearing before her very eyes. He punched her, knocking her several meters into the air and disorienting her to the point where she was half blind.

Before she hit the ground, she was snatched around the waist by a sort of lasso, light and cold as it deposited her gently onto her feet. She blinked dazedly at Mutsuki, her eyes flickering from his unbearably cold expression to the bikaku kagune that coiled around him.

"Mutsuki—!" she started, her fingers just catching his tattered sleeve before he pushed off the ground and slung his kagune like a whip until it lashed against Yamori's chest and left a great wound the exact size of the one Touka had inflicted. He slid away from the kakuja's unstable arm and drove his own kagune through Yamori's stomach, further opening the wound Touka had sliced open and cutting upwards until his kagune split through Yamori's jaw and cleaved his skull in half.

Blood seemed to rain down as Mutsuki's kagune burst through the top of Yamori's head, flicking lightly against the air like the twitch of a cat's tale. Yamori's last yell was still echoing off the rafters with the sound of his brains splattering across the floor and his body collapsing heavily at Mutsuki's feet.

Touka stood in an awestruck silence. The dust settled as Mutsuki swayed, his kagune swaying along with him, like he was absolutely dazed.

Ayato was suddenly at her side. He was still bleeding, but she noted that he had chosen to ignore that fact in favor of watching Mutsuki appreciatively.

"Guess that takes care of that," he said, unfazed. Touka found that she was not quite so shocked to see Yamori getting cut in two as she was to see Mutsuki did it. Gentle Mutsuki, tearing a ghoul apart like it was nothing. It was a shock, definitely, but not an unwelcomed one.

"Yeah," she said faintly. "It's… good. That Mutsuki got the final blow."

"Yeah," Ayato agreed, raising his mask to wipe his sweaty face with his sleeve. "Serves that bastard right. Dying at the hands of his victim is… I dunno, uh… poetic? I guess that's the word."

"Yes. Poetic." She jumped when Mutsuki fell to his knees before Yamori's corpse. "Is he okay?"

"Hell if I know. Stupid sister." He nudged her gently with his elbow. "Go check. He's less likely to snap at you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked him coldly, shooting him an irritated glare.

"It means that I _put_ him here." Ayato's face was grave and pale. It was the face of a boy who had recognized a mistake, and was choosing to make amends. "And you got him out. So go on, sis. Be the hero. You're the only person I know dumb enough to successfully become one."

It was then that she realized he was praising her, halfway toward Mutsuki and completely taken aback. When she turned to look at him she saw him retreating toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she gasped. He paused. He turned to watch her expectantly.

The distinctly wet sound of an organ being displaced from a corpse caused her to look down. Mutsuki was kneeling, eyes unblinkingly wide at the still heart in his trembling hands. He let his head bow slowly, his trembling lips nearly catching a bloody vein.

Touka snatched one of his wrists and caused him to drop the heart back into the puddle that had once been Yamori.

"No," she told him firmly. "Not that. We'll get you better food later."

He spent awhile staring at the glistening red stains on his discolored fingers. His nails were blackened, and his skin had grown back whiter in places than in others. He touched a bloodied finger to his lips, and they opened. No sound came out.

Touka saw Ayato frown. He continued to watch quietly, without comment, which she was thankful for.

Then Mutsuki said, "Humans, you mean. You're going to feed me humans."

Touka was speechless momentarily, her eyes meeting Ayato's in a panic. He didn't seem to know what to do either, because his expression was completely incredulous. As though to say, _"Well, what else are you gonna eat, stupid?"_ He chose not to be an ass for once, and once again Touka was eternally thankful that Ayato had learned the art of shutting the fuck up.

"I… I guess so," Touka said distantly. She couldn't look Mutsuki in the eye, not solely because she didn't want to (she really didn't), but also because his head was bowed to his chest. "I can't think of a good substitute… I've never met a real kakuja before Yamori, but if that's what you become when you eat ghouls, then Mutsuki… please don't."

He let out a tiny laugh that was half a scoff and half a sob. "I…" he uttered, drawing his bloodied hands up to his face and covering it from view. "I'm a ghoul. I'm a _ghoul_!"

"Oh," Touka breathed, her hand still on his wrist and her eyes widening with every passing second. She had not realized how traumatizing that revelation must have been for him, a boy who had been rather human until this had all happened. She had tried her best to help him remain human, but even the strongest human couldn't thrive on three raisins in five days. It was no surprise that he'd eaten whatever Yamori had given him. "Yeah. I guess so. I'm… I'm sorry, Mutsuki."

If it had been any other time, she would have been angry at the implications. Like her existence was something awful, and he was ashamed to be the same as her. But now was not the time. Now was not the place. He had been through something awful, and even she could recognize that it was wrong to belittle his horror.

Without a word, Mutsuki slumped against her, his face burying in her shoulder and his bloody fingers clinging to her sleeves. She patted him uncertainly on the back as Ayato slowly approached.

"Hey," he said. He looked awkward. He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes. "Um… I'm gonna go now."

"Go?" Touka didn't say she didn't want him to go, but her unbidden question revealed her true feelings on the matter. Ayato frowned at her without looking her in the eye.

"Someone's gotta secure the first and second buildings," he said. "You were fine with me doing it before we got in here."

"That was before," she said, "this is after. You don't have to go."

"Yeah, I do," he sighed, "and so do you. Touka, you promised."

"Yes, I did promise to leave with Mutsuki," she said, holding the boy gingerly as he cried into her shoulder, "and I will. But that doesn't mean you can't—!"

"I can't what?" Ayato snapped, his expression decidedly blank. "Come with you? Idiot. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. She took a deep breath. "I really don't. But I can't see why anyone would want to stay here!"

"It's not your business what I do." Ayato shook his head. "Just go, quickly. Run into the woods and don't look back."

"I came here for _you_ ," Touka gasped. "I knew the doves would attack sooner or later, regardless of if I came or not! I'm only here because I didn't want you to get caught up in it! Ayato, come with me!"

"It's not my fault," Ayato said quietly, turning his back on her, "if you honestly were stupid enough to think I'd be enough of a coward to run away from the doves."

"This isn't brave, this is reckless and stupid!"

"It's an order, Touka. Nothing more." He pulled his rabbit mask over his face. "Please just go. I'm tired of listening to your nagging."

"Ayato!"

" _Go_!" He didn't look at her, but she heard his voice crack, and it left her reeling. She jerked back, trying to process the noise and wondering if she'd heard right.

Ayato fled the room. That was confirmation enough.

* * *

He tore his mask off to blot his eyes with the end of his scarf. Stupid sister. Stupid ghoul dove. Stupid Tatara. Stupid _everything_! He was so sick of everyone thinking they fucking knew him, _especially_ his stupid goddamn sister! Ugh!

He stopped halfway through buildings to catch his breath and wipe his tears again. It had been a pretty long time since he'd had a good cry. Long before he joined Aogiri. It might have been the night he ran away from home.

From Anteiku, he meant.

From _Touka_ , really.

Anyway, that was way in the past, so like, no need to think about that bullshit now. He had a whole army of doves to face. Better put on a game face and roll out, or whatever.

He sniffled a little. It was a sharp sniff. He wiped his nose and the rest of his face for good measure. Okay. Now he was ready.

His leg kinda still hurt.

Fucking Yamori. Was it still bleeding?

Ayato didn't even want to check, he was still so pissed at himself for not dodging it. He'd fucked up, right? No denying. He could have dodged that. Why hadn't he?

That had been so draining, and Ayato just wished he could forget all of it. Everything. He wanted to forget Touka, and that dumb boy, Mutsuki, and he wanted to forget that Yamori had ever existed because he hated that he was associated with scum like that.

Ayato didn't hurt people because he liked to. He did it because he was ordered.

…Right?

He stopped between the second and first buildings. He could hear people screaming.

Ghouls screaming.

He looked down at where he stood. There were corpses all around him, ghouls that had been cut down here earlier. How much earlier? They were still bleeding, some of them. Ayato knelt before one, and found a dagger sheathed in their neck.

He pulled his mask down. Thinking was not going to win him his life.

So he cut through a couple doves. It was easy work. He worked through a couple more, too, for good measure. And then a few more. And another few. Whole battalions fell at his feet. He was growing tired.

Then the real doves came. Ayato realized, with a sickening twist of the gut, that they all had to get through him if they wanted to proceed through the buildings. With the Bin Brothers gone and Yamori dead, who did that even leave? Ayato, Noro, Eto, and Tatara? Eto wasn't going to fight, and Ayato knew it. Noro was definitely further inside, ready to pick up the pieces of Ayato's failure. Tatara was possibly escaping.

Shit.

This kinda looked bleak, didn't it?

A sudden, furious voice broke through his thoughts and genuinely shocked him. " _Rabbit_!"

He glanced at the face of the man who had shouted it. It was a large investigator, broad shouldered and looming. He held some kind of mace or whatever in his fists. Ayato watched this. He got into a defensive position.

"Amon," another dove barked. "Remember who's with you!"

But Amon did not seem to care whoever the fuck was with him. Nope. He came charging at Ayato with everything he had. Ayato dodged his heavy strike with an easy slide to the left. Amon pivoted and backhanded him, sending Ayato flying in shock. He scaled back, kicking off the wall of the second building and readjusting himself. Lucky for him, the backhand had been with the flat of the quinque.

"Tell me," Amon said shakily, "tell me why you killed Mado. Was it revenge? For Fueguchi?"

Ayato stood, cocking his head for a moment to rattle his memories into place. Who the fuck was Mado? And then he remembered. This mask was once a symbol of Touka, and her own kills, and now he was getting blamed for it.

Ha. Sweet.

"Does it matter?" Ayato didn't know why he'd even answered. Maybe he just wanted to confirm to them that he was that same Rabbit. Free Touka from the blame. "Dead is dead."

Amon's eyes widened, and his nostrils flared as he turned his quinque sharply. "Soon you'll know that better than anyone!"

Ayato let his kagune tear from his shoulders, relishing in the way the shadows stirred beneath the glow of purple and red. He curled the wings around him and twisted them at a breakneck speed, spewing flechette shards all over and causing all the investigators to take cover in the first building. Amon, the dove that had yelled at him, all of them. They ducked and shouted and Amon let out a furious cry.

"It's no good," the dove that had yelled at Amon sighed. "You can't block those."

"Shinohara, sir!" Amon sounded offended. "This is my fight!"

"No. You will get deeper into the building with Rank 3 Shirazu and find Mutsuki. Is that clear?"

Ayato pulled his wings out of the whirlwind, scaling back once more to watch Amon huff and puff indignantly. Like hell Ayato was just going to let him through. _Especially_ if he was after Mutsuki, who was incidentally with his sister. The person who had actually killed Mado. It was a recipe for a disaster.

Shinohara stepped out. He held a briefcase, and Ayato watched him flick it open. He had to be careful with these doves. They were smarter than the ones who had through themselves onto Ayato's kagune.

He felt a sudden wave of uneasiness as Shinohara stepped forward, the quinque unraveling from the briefcase… and then coiling tightly around the dove. Ayato's eyes widened, and he thought for a moment about his uneasiness and he thought about how his hands were suddenly clammy and he thought that he was imagining things when the smell of home hit his nose and all his senses were driven back to the haze of childhood. He felt a pillow against his cheek, Touka's soft breaths blowing against his face, the lingering scent of mint shampoo and dead sea soap burning his nostrils. And he thought like the child he was, _I hope daddy comes home soon_.

For a moment— half a heartbeat— he had fallen to delusions and thought perhaps that scent was because his father had finally come home, and he could sleep well for the first time since the night he'd left.

And then it all came crashing down, and he heard himself gasp and felt himself jerk back. His skin prickled uncomfortably, bumps raised in horror of what he was seeing, sensing, feeling, knowing. He couldn't breathe properly.

"Go," the thief barked at Amon. "I've got his attention. My Arata will be fine enough to handle him."

 _Arata_ , Ayato thought numbly. _Your Arata? How could you be so cruel? So awful? To say you own the remains of someone you murdered?_

"Oh, I get it…" he said faintly, his rage building up inside him like a fire erupting. "So that's where you went."

To think he'd ever blamed his father for never coming home.

…Had Touka known?

Suddenly he didn't know if he could make the right choice and say he believed it.

His feet were beating against the ground, his kagune flashing unsteadily before his eyes and colliding sharply with Shinohara's quinque, forcing the man's heels to grind against the cracked cement. He backpedaled sharply, fists at the grip of the quinque while forcing Ayato back and sliding away from the brunt of his attack.

"Amon," Shinohara barked. "Go! Now!"

"But, sir—!" Amon's displeasure was not Ayato's concern. Whatever bone he had to pick with Rabbit could wait until after Ayato had smeared this investigator's corpse across the walls of Aogiri's first building.

Ayato scaled back to send a flechette barrage at the general direction of the investigators, swooping down and attempting to deliver a kick through the storm. Shinohara's eyes were quick and his reflexes quicker. Ayato had to pull himself back just to bounce the sole of his boot off the quinque and roll back against the ground, heaving great breaths that beat hotly against the inside of his mask.

"I've clearly got his attention," Shinohara chuckled. "Don't worry, just do what you have to do."

Amon still seemed reluctant. He had a look about him that could make the blood in Ayato's veins curdle and the hair on his head loosen and begin to fall from his scalp in great tufts.

Suddenly a boy ran out into the fray and bounded past Ayato. Their eyes met as the boy ran, pale hair fluttering like stark feathers in the dull moonlight. His breath clouded around his head as he lowered his chin determinedly. Ayato let him pass without so much as blinking.

Amon, without much of a choice, was scrambling after the boy. "Shirazu," he gasped, " _wait_!" As he passed Ayato he tightened his grip on his quinque, his eyes wild and his body bracing for a fight. Ayato simply stared after him.

He turned back to Shinohara when Amon had passed him.

Before he could engage again, Amon's voice rung sharply from behind him.

"You," he snapped. "Rabbit ghoul. Why are you allowing us to pass?"

Ayato didn't have the goddamn energy for this.

He watched Shinohara coldly, and the man watched him back. He held up a single hand, as though to suggest that he was willing to pause this fight so Ayato could answer, but the trouble was that Ayato didn't _want_ to answer. He just wanted to run. He didn't care where. He just didn't want to be here anymore, but he could _taste_ the remnants of his father here, scattered about the air and skittering on his skin and Ayato knew he couldn't continue to breathe knowing he had run away from this.

So Ayato said, "Why does it matter why? If you had any sense at all you'd be gone already!"

"Amon, let's _go,_ " Shirazu cried, sounding vivid and impatient. Ayato thought perhaps he was familiar, but also he didn't really care if he was or not. It didn't matter anyway.

Ayato waited until they were gone before he took a step forward, his feet guiding him unsteadily as his wings beat overhead like war drums. The movements were so sudden and erratic, and he felt none of it, none of the air whooshing beneath him, nothing of the pressure of his kagune scraping the armor made from his father, nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

It was the lies that made it all so much harder to bear.

Because he could see his father's face if he collided hard enough with the ground, his breath beating at the inside of his mask, his chest heaving as stars prickled the edge of his vision. Nothing was solid and nothing was clear, and he prayed for a solution but none came.

Ayato didn't just go through the motions, he was carried away by the motions and consumed by them. He moved without thought, sending furious attack after attack after attack and feeling nothing but the stillness inside him as it grew and grew, and he thought about Touka, about how she had longed for nothing but a home for years on end, and how he had laughed in her face for being weak like their father.

It wasn't fair.

If he had known from the start, would things be any different?

There was a spiral attack, and then a flurried fury of blows that he couldn't quite catch up with himself despite delivering them. Shinohara was blocking everything, and nothing seemed to matter, and Ayato's vision was growing hazy from the tears.

In another life, he could recall stumbling toward the door and shrieking happily when his father scooped him up in his arms and buried his face in Ayato's neck. It was like a dream, something fuzzy that seemed to float ambiguously like foam at the top of his mind, never meant to be taken seriously and yet he considered it with the sort of care that a clockmaker might inspect a cog.

Ayato reeled back with a shout when Shinohara caught him by the shoulder, blood flickering in the night air and pain biting into his collarbone. He pushed off the ground, bouncing quickly to the side and pressing his palm to the wound absently. Shinohara watched him steadily. There were men behind him, men who had always been there but had stood by observantly. Perhaps they'd been ordered to do so.

 _This will heal,_ he told himself, letting his bloody hand drop to his side. _I have to keep fighting_.

So he did. He launched another attack, kagune bearing down again, and again, trying from all angles to find an opening. Shinohara caught him again, a glistening black gauntlet cuffing the side of Ayato's head and sending him flying. He found himself tumbling across the ground, weeds that peeked through the cracks in the cement getting torn up by his trembling fingers.

Thoughts of times long past, of memories long buried, of people long dead seemed to haunt him now.

"Damn it," he gasped, picking himself up shakily. He couldn't feel his fingertips. It was the cold, of course, the late December bite that had caught his sense of touch and left him so numb. It was just the frigid air stealing his energy. He could fight the cold, just as he could fight the dove.

So he went in for another blow.

Blocked.

Another blow, this time and uppercut.

Blocked with a vigor that sent him sprawling.

He listened to his own panting, his breaths rasping in the night air.

Another blow, and another, and another.

He tried, and he tried, and _oh,_ he tried so hard but what could he do when he was dizzy and sick on nostalgia and pain and he couldn't remember why he was even here to begin with?

Nobody had told him that being alive meant being disappointed by life.

He tried again. He threw a punch, and he missed. He watched his fist fly uselessly through the air.

It was then that he realized that the doves had made a circle around him.

He stood, blinking wildly, heaving all the breaths in all the world and finding that there was not enough air to sustain him.

"Surrender," Shinohara said.

Ayato tried again.

The world was black and nothing mattered.

He was nothing but a shimmering red blot in the great black abyss, and he could feel the flame guttering out as he bore down on Shinohara one final time. He miscalculated, as he did, as he knew he was going to, because he had nothing left but a mouthful of words he'd never gotten to say and a headful of thoughts he'd never wanted to think, and it was all so damn much. He felt the quinque shatter his kagune before it even made ground, and Ayato stumbled and collapsed onto one knee, his fingers twitching at his chest.

He heard some words or another. _Arata_. _Sluggish_. Nothing more. What else mattered? He heard his father's voice swimming in his head, and the words were all jumbled but the meaning was all the same.

 _Protect your sister_.

Ayato wanted to scream back at this dead man, to beat the chest of this armor made of flesh and cry, _"But what about_ _ **me**_ _?"_

Second child, second guesses. Nobody could find the words or the time. He had to make his own.

He found it hard to lift himself up, his head heavy with all the words and all the time and all the washed up memories that he thought he'd cast away years ago. The quiet clinking of the armor, the telltale sign of an axe being raised overhead by the executioner's steady hand. It was so much, and he couldn't. He couldn't stand it!

The overload of senses, the feeling of his father's callused hands against his cheeks when they lifted his head and dashed away his tears, the smell of his father's hair after a long bath— all soapy and minty and fresh like a brand new day, the sound of his father's easy voice shuffling out story after story without fail or falter, the sight of his father's kind eyes and bright smile every day and every night and every moment in between with all the hopes in all the world resting beneath his honest gaze.

Ayato's fist bumped up gently against the armor. It was cold.

The bite of death stung worse than a thousand spiders crawling up his back.

His fingers squeaked pitifully against the polished surface. He didn't even flinch when Shinohara reached out and gingerly tugged on his mask until it gave and fell away from his face.

The man watched him with a taut brow and a deepening frown as Ayato tried to reconcile the thoughts of his father with this cold dead thing worn by his soon to be killer.

 _Protect your sister_.

Would she feel like this, then? Hopeless and hollow, unfocused and undone? He felt faithless and faded and forced to fight his own fallacies. There was no way to win. He was stuck in this moment, understanding that nothing could save him, and that Touka would share the same fate.

One day, maybe soon, she would face down this man and fall prey to the trickery of the senses, the memories dredged up by their father's half-corpse and inevitably the strike of Ayato's own words upon her cheek as his own kagune was used to lash her back into halves.

That thought shook him like the end of the world that he never thought he'd see.

His hand dropped, pathetic, useless, and shaky. He dragged himself unsteadily away from the dove, keenly aware that the circle was closing in on him. The ring of investigators was growing tighter, and he felt like a trapped animal ready to gnaw off his own leg.

"Just surrender," Shinohara said softly. "This can be different. You can make it different."

Ayato bowed his head near the dead body he'd found upon arriving to the clearing between buildings. His whole body shook.

He was trapped. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and he thought that if he maybe had a moment more to say to Touka what he couldn't say in Yamori's god awful room, then maybe he'd be content enough to let it go on without a fuss.

But the thing about Kirishima Ayato was that he _always_ made a fuss.

He tore the knife out of the throat of the dead ghoul beside him. It was a familiar knife, similar to the one that had cut him up at the hospital. Insanely similar. Perhaps it was the same knife.

Everything seemed to move at once. The investigators swarmed, Shinohara shouted, and he used the very last of his strength to burn the night red one more time. His kagune stuttered and gasped as it fluttered into life, wings beating softly in the cool night air. He could hear feet beating on the pavement as he held the quinque knife tightly in his sweaty palm.

His fingers trembled as he raised the blade and dropped to his knees.

It was a reach, but once he bowed his head and angled the knife against the root of his wings, it was simple.

And then it was hard.

And then it was _excruciating_.

He plunged the knife into the tender skin where crystallized RC cells met muscle, and he tore through it like it was a festering wound. He slashed it clean open, a scream bubbling up in his throat and tearing out by the time he managed to cleave open the other side of his shoulder, tearing open his kakuhou and ripping his kagune out with two swift cuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seminex, seminecis.  
> half-killed, half-dead.


	30. cohibeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i return from finals hell. the rest of the story, aside from the final chapter and epilogue, are pretty much unplanned. so basically i'm just going to play with the second half of the manga to try and get to the place i want. that means that i officially have stopped giving a fuck! my story now! no more manga alignment! ok no that's a lie i'll still probably keep the first manga in mind as a write.
> 
> oh, and btw, there are things in :re i'm ignoring. like, they don't exist in this. mutsuki's backstory is one. anything about mutsuki past the tsukiyama extermination arc i'm ignoring, actually. i'll make up my own backstory for him. you guys already got a bit of it. um, there are two characters from :re i'll never write. no one has asked me about them, which is good. but yeah these things don't exist. it's an au, i can do that. i've made enough fuckos in this that i'm literally just shrug emoji about manga continuity. 
> 
> anyway! enjoy!

He would hate himself at some time or another for abandoning Shirazu. Not so long ago, Mutsuki had told him off for not paying more attention to the boy, and it was still so hard to grasp that there were people in this world who _needed_ his attention.

It was really sad how many people thought that they could rely on Kaneki Ken to be anything but a goddamn mess.

All he knew how to do was run away from his problems and hope, you know, low key, that something would just kill him along the way.

It was a terrible way to live life, and he was trying very hard to fix it.

Suzuya had no comment when Kaneki began to cut through ghouls using his kagune. It was not hard, he found, with Suzuya at his side slicing away at ghoul after ghoul like they had a limitless supply of energy catered specifically to easily removing the limbs from ghouls in rapid movements. It might have been frightening if Kaneki was not doing the same exact thing, only at a slightly slower and more contained pace.

"You're pretty good at this," Kaneki remarked.

Suzuya giggled, digging the sword they'd taken from Kaneki into a ghoul's shoulder and ripping it out, tendon and all. "Wanna have a race?" they asked brightly.

"Let's not."

But Suzuya was bounding down the dilapidated corridor, sword thwacking through bodies like they were weeds in an overgrown field. Kaneki had lost sense of how many people he had killed now, his kagune whipping through stomachs and throats at an alarming rate, and he felt more and more blood drying against his cheeks and hands. He thought about what Mutsuki might say when he saw him like this, a monster in the dark, with twisting limbs cutting through ghoul after ghoul, blood caked to his skin and hair.

He could smell the death here. The sour sweat and metal, the decay already settling among them as they ripped the Aogiri mooks to shreds and soldiered on.

"This way," Kaneki gasped, snatching Suzuya by the elbow as they made it to a slightly deserted section of Aogiri's hideout. He was stung by the wave of vertigo that came over him as he moved through familiar hallways, the ceiling turning over like a would-be dream and causing him to fall into a sluggish stumble. He was nauseated.

Suzuya paused, their sword dipping toward the uneven floor, and they leaned toward Kaneki expectantly. When Kaneki finally slowed to a stop, shouldering a busted wall and taking deep breaths, Suzuya simply continued to watch.

 _Why can't I just keep going?_ He found himself at a loss, his head swimming and his stomach turning itself inside out. But things kept going on and on, and he realized he could not stay here, thinking hard and thinking fast, because there was a war going on around him and he had to _fight_. It was like struggling to move forward with a burden that would never fall, and would never make it to its mark, because he was destined to fail every time.

He was doomed to keep going through these awful motions, desperately hoping for a different outcome like Sisyphus praying on his knees when the boulder slipped from the summit of the hill yet again.

It was madness to keep seeking answers in repetition.

He thought that by joining the CCG, he could break the cycle, but it simply _had not worked_. He was still stumbling head first into the destruction of Anteiku. Yamori still had an outlet for his rage and sadism. Kaneki was still pushing people away and trying to carry the burden on his own.

He wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his black turtle neck, taking a deep breath. Suzuya tapped their sword against the debris ridden floor.

"You gonna puke?" they asked.

"No." Kaneki pushed off the wall and marched forward, albeit a little unsteadily. "Let's keep going. We're almost there."

The moment they began climbing the steps, Suzuya seemed to grow tenser and more guarded. They pulled out a dagger, Scorpion, like the ones Mutsuki had. This was not the first time he'd used the daggers tonight, and Kaneki suspected it would not be the last.

Suzuya didn't ask how Kaneki knew where he was going, which he was eternally thankful for. Instead they just twirled their knife lazily and swung the sword at the air.

"Be careful," Kaneki whispered to Suzuya. "This ghoul is stronger than the rest."

"Yeah, yeah."

They paused at the door. Suzuya glanced at Kaneki expectantly. Then they promptly kicked open the door and strolled in.

"Hello!" they sang. Their voice echoed off the rafters, and Kaneki stood in the doorway, his head swimming from the crashing wave of fear and disgust that throttled him the moment he peered into the room. It was the feeling of steel biting against his skin, the shudder of pain that overcame his senses with each and every grinding _clip_ of his toes being cleaved off one by one.

And then the illusion faded, and he saw the empty chair.

 _Maybe Mutsuki wasn't tortured after all_ , he found himself hoping.

"Oh, wow," Suzuya whistled. "Ken, look at this! Jason's super dead!"

Nevermind.

Kaneki rushed into the room, shoving the empty chair aside and noting the bloodstains with a twinge of despair. He then looked at the corpse in the middle of the room, and he had to cover his mouth to stifle a great burst of incredulous laughter.

Yamori had been ripped _apart_! Kaneki couldn't really remember what he'd done to Yamori— the memory was hazy and faded as though he'd dipped it in gasoline with the intention of burning it, and all the color had bled together while it had dried, lost and forgotten in the recesses of his mind. All he really knew was that he'd made a mess of it all, since he'd promptly gobbled up Yamori's kakuja. But this scene was far different, his head and chest sliced cleaning in half and his kakuja still morphed around his choppy corpse. He had not been cannibalized.

Thank god for that.

"Looks like he escaped," Kaneki breathed, running a hand through his hair. It came back sticky from the blood. He glanced down at his palm, and hastily wiped it on his pants.

"How do you even know he was here?" Suzuya asked with big eyes as they crouched beside the corpse.

"I…" Kaneki's eyes flashed away. "I just know. Okay?"

"Sure. Whatever." Suzuya reached over Yamori's body and took it by the ankles. "Wanna help me get this outta here?"

Kaneki stared at the kid blankly, trying to decide if they were being serious before realizing, sickened, of course they were.

"Really?" he sighed, bringing his knuckles to his nose and gritting his teeth. "No. God— why…? You know what, no, nevermind, I don't want to know."

"Kay," Suzuya said, blinking at him with disinterest. "You gonna go after Mutsuki?"

"Yes. Of course."

"You want some of my knives?"

Kaneki considered it. "You keeping my sword?" he asked, eyeing Suzuya distrustfully.

Their face split into a bright little grin. "Of course," they said.

"Okay, fine."

He took three knives and turned his back on Suzuya and on hell itself. He'd spent enough time in that room. He'd spent a whole lifetime wasting away inside it.

And he was never going back.

So he plucked up his courage and sheathed a knife in each boot. He gripped the last one in his fist as he started down the steps, turning back only once to glance at Suzuya. They'd paused momentarily to shoot a curious look at him.

"Be careful," Kaneki told them earnestly.

They looked confused. "What?" they said.

"Don't die," Kaneki elaborated.

Suzuya blinked. They laughed like it was the funniest joke they'd ever heard.

"Oh, like that matters!" the laughed gleefully. "Who cares if I die?"

"I do," Kaneki said. It was quiet, but he thought Suzuya could hear him over the stifling silence of the torture room. "Shinohara does."

"That's kinda stupid of you, don't you think?"

They spoke so earnestly that it was difficult for Kaneki to feel angry. They were standing with one of Yamori's legs gripped lazily in their fist, their head tilted and their hair twisting like white wire around their cheeks.

"Caring about someone isn't stupid, Suzuya," Kaneki said slowly. He said it, and he wished someone had told him this forever ago. He wished someone would tell him this now.

Suzuya was lucky in their amorality. It made them innocent.

They stood a long way off, and for a moment it seemed that they were totally speechless.

"I think," they called, "that everybody's gotta die sometime. Even me. Even you. So who cares? It's all the same, in the end."

 _But I've died already_ , Kaneki thought numbly, _so where does that get me?_

The answer was, of course, nowhere. But he'd accepted that truth already.

He took a deep breath and began his descent down the stairs. The slow descent turned into a hasty jog, and he found himself trying to wrap his head around the situation as a whole. Mutsuki _had_ been tortured, in all likelihood, but also Yamori was very dead. Kaneki could only assume Touka had helped him, which he was eternally thankful for, but he was also fearful about because what the hell was she going to do now?

He needed to find Touka. He'd been so preoccupied with Mutsuki, he hadn't even _thought_.

This was probably why teamwork was supposed to be such a great thing. If Kaneki had just been with someone— someone who wasn't as absentminded as Suzuya— then maybe he would have gotten his shit together and been able rationalize the situation.

He dropped down from an upper level, his feet kicking up dust and debris as he skidded amongst a ring of ghouls. Shouts ricocheted off the busted rafters, and he raised the dagger to his chin, his eyes raking in the situation. The ghouls were scrambling, bumping into each other and backpedaling rapidly. He realized fast that he had gotten to the point of attack where the ghouls fighting were not explicitly part of Aogiri.

Suddenly a shadow stretched out before him, arms flung out wide in clear defense.

"Everyone," a familiar voice gasped, "run!"

A bout of objections stilled the air, and Kaneki slowly lowered his knife, finding his muscles unwinding. It took him back, reminded him of the things he once was and the things he could no longer be, and it hurt. Reminders of his past, in this fucked up present, hurt to acknowledge and to understand, because he was at a loss.

It was so hard to admit that he had no idea what to do.

"Stop," Kaneki told Banjou, holding a hand up in as a peace offering. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Banjou didn't look convinced. His eyes were narrowed, his arms stretched out wide, and Kaneki could see the sweat clinging to his brow even in this dimly lit corridor. His breath was heavy and shallow, his chest rising and falling unsteadily.

"Likely story," Banjou snapped. "Everyone, _go_! Now!"

"Wait," Kaneki said urgently, letting the knife clatter to the floor as he held up his hands over his head. "Go through the forest. Cut around this building and go through the woods— we don't have anyone in there, because we feared an ambush."

Banjou stared at him, his expression softening in dull shock. His eyes flickered down to the knife bemusedly, as though he truly could not fathom this sign of mercy and kindness.

"Why the hell should we trust you?" Banjou gasped.

Kaneki didn't have a good answer.

"That's what I thought," Banjou said. He eyed Kaneki warily, the whites of them gleaming in the dark. And then he turned, very quickly, and began shuffling people forward. "Go. Let's go!"

They started streaming past Kaneki by the twos and threes. Kaneki stood in silence, his hands held high above his head, his eye meeting Banjou's openly whenever the man turned. Until finally, they were the only two left in the corridor.

"I should kill you," Banjou said.

"You won't," Kaneki replied.

The silence that stretched between them was that of a mutual understanding. Something had clicked, and between them was an unspoken dawning of respect, with one party granting mercy and the other granting trust. It filled him with a familiar sort of longing, to recall the days when he had been a group with Banjou and his crew, Hinami at his side.

And Tsukiyama, on technicality.

Slowly, Banjou started forward, his eyes never leaving Kaneki's.

"Hey," Kaneki said, lowered his head as Banjou passed him by. "Do you know a girl named Touka?"

Banjou's boots skidded against the debris, sheetrock dust coughing as he halted abruptly. That was undoubtedly a yes.

"I understand if you choose not to trust me," Kaneki continued, "and I respect you for trying to protect her, but she's my friend too. Could you tell me where you last saw her?"

Banjou's silence was answer enough. Kaneki desperately wanted to say more, but he knew that there was nothing more he could do here. Banjou had chosen not to speak, and nothing could pry that location from his lips now. Kaneki knew him well.

It was the worst sort of torture, to intimately know strangers.

Kaneki moved on with a heavy heart, scooping the knife off the ground and trudging through the dark building on his own. His thoughts were consumed by the images of Touka and Mutsuki, and he found it difficult to focus on anything else.

He broke into a frantic run as he heard approaching footfalls shuddering through the rickety building. He skidded onto his knees and hid behind a busted banister, his back pressing up against splintered wood and his fingers tightening on the grip of the dagger Suzuya had lent him. His breath beat senselessly at the air, and he pulled his turtleneck up over his nose to dampen the sound.

His thoughts were all fleeting, and if he thought he could continue on like this without consequence, he knew he was wrong. Everything came at a price. He just had to figure out if the cost could ever outweigh anything.

He heard shouting from below, the sort of horrified screeches that served a certain purpose in nightmares in horror films to cause a person to be seized by paranoia and terror. For a moment he was stunned, locked in place and unable to budge his legs, which were stuck beneath him as he crouched low to the ground.

Then, with a leap of courage, he jumped up and flung himself over the banister and down several stories, air rushing through his ears and throwing his stomach into his spine. Whichever way he landed, he knew he was in for trouble.

He tucked into a roll, the floorboards protesting bleakly. One even snapped beneath him, causing him to stumble a bit and skid onto his side. Immediately he hopped to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. There were various investigators all around, backing up and breathing heavily, their eyes flickering from Kaneki to a looming figure.

 _Shit_ , Kaneki thought, backing up very slowly, one arm thrown out in defense. _I'm screwed._

Noro stood before him, head cocked eerily as they thrust the broken body of an investigator into the splintered floorboards.

"Back up," Kaneki gasped, ushering the few remaining investigators away. "Retreat!"

"We can't!" an investigator cried.

"Yes, you can!"

A hand clamped down on Kaneki's shoulder. He whirled around, on the verge of striking the owner of the hand down, before he saw the man's face.

"No," Investigator Urie said calmly. "We can't. We have to push forward."

Kaneki sensed a disturbance from above and he ducked into a roll, shouldering the floor and peering through his damp, unruly hair at the unbelievable kagune that swept down and devoured half the floor with a single graze.

"Do you really think these men can defeat _that_?" Kaneki snapped at Urie. "I've already swept through this building! There's nothing for you here!"

"We have to fight," Urie said firmly. His dark eyes were hard like two coals that had been recently pried from the dead earth. "Whether or not you fight with us, well… that's your choice. Rank 3."

A cracking sound filled his ears, and he realized it was from grinding his teeth viciously out of frustration. He shot a glance at Noro, and he shrunk against the battered floor. Thoughts of Mutsuki and Touka taunted him, sang to him a song of life and death, of dreams and hope, and he thought that maybe if he could just see the two of them safe for a moment, that would be enough to carry him on and on, from this life until the end of all lives.

But Mutsuki and Touka were nowhere to be found. And he had a different song to sing.

He pushed himself to his feet, allowing his kagune to rip through the small of his back and deflect the mighty blow Noro attempted to inflict upon Urie and two other men. Urie had stood strong, a quinque balanced like a spear in both hands. His chin was tilted down, his eyes narrowed and alert.

The kagune met with a thunderous clang, like metal screeching against metal, and those black eyes shot wide for just a moment. They met Kaneki's, and found there whatever burning resolve was left within him.

Kaneki kicked himself back and dragged his kagune through the floorboards, spitting up wood and splinters as the ground creaked unsteadily beneath them.

"What are you doing?" Urie gasped, grasping him by the shoulder.

"Saving your life," Kaneki replied curtly.

"Preventing us from getting to the ghoul helps no one!" Urie angled the lance so it dipped against his elbow a pressed to his shoulder. "This is not the time for your mercy games, Rank 3! That ghoul is dangerous!"

"I know," Kaneki said, his kagune curling eerily around him. He saw the other investigators beginning to back away slowly. Whispers filled the air. Noro stood at the other side of a yawning chasm, watching them dutifully. "Too dangerous. You aren't strong enough to take him."

"I am an Associate Special Class investigator," Urie said in a low, simmering voice that seemed to be heated by some unholy fire that had sparked deep within the man's soul. "You are nothing but a child. Stand aside, or I will _make_ you."

Kaneki had not known Urie's rank, and hearing that he held such a high position within the CCG shocked him. His apartment had been humble, to say the least, and Urie had never been haughty or excessive or even as withdrawn as Kaneki had expected all high ranking investigators to act. He seemed to be simply a person.

"Jump the gap," Kaneki said, his words merely an exhale in the dark. He shot a wary glance at Noro, who stood like a shadow made solid on the other side of the line Kaneki had drawn. It was a pretty wide space, a few meters that Kaneki had managed to knock out, and another few meters of rickety flooring that simply could not be trusted on either side. "I won't stop you."

Only a ghoul could make that jump.

Urie eyed the chasm warily. It led to the basement, if the slivers of visible cement flooring was anything to go by. He obviously saw the danger in this pursuit.

"I can make it," Urie said. He turned to his men, his chin held high. "Everyone else, please retreat."

Kaneki wanted to throttle the man. _No sense_ , he thought dimly, his shock clearly written on his face. _This man is hopeless. Does he want to die_?

"You can't fight that thing alone!" an investigator cried, jerking forward. Urie caught him by the shoulder and pushed him back gingerly.

"It's my job." Urie seemed to pause in consideration. He turned to Kaneki with a solemn expression, tired eyes narrowed and lips pressed thinly together. "If I can trust anyone to make it out of this alive, it's you, half ghoul. Do me a favor. Keep my son out of the quinx."

"One," Kaneki said, finding his voice among the scattered emotions that clogged him from chest to throat, "if you think I'm leaving you here, you're in for a rude awakening. Two, you are not fighting this on your own. Three, _tell your son yourself_!" Kaneki pushed Urie harshly, managing to maneuver around the lance and shove him back into one of his men. Urie retaliated fiercely, bringing the butt of his spear down with the abrupt speed of someone who must have been handling quinque for a long time. It was an expert jerk of his wrist that nearly brought Kaneki to his knees.

But Kaneki blocked it with his kagune and went skidding aside, kicking up dust and debris as he steadied himself.

A flapping, unmistakable flutter of fabric caused everyone to freeze. Kaneki raised his head and watched in mild awe as two cloaked figures dropped from above, kagune already gleaming.

"Weapons ready!" Urie cried.

The figures zipped through the air, and one bounced from the banister to Noro, kagune launched forward. Noro dodged easily.

Kaneki realized he recognized that kagune.

 _No way,_ he thought in utter disbelief as the second figure picked up where the first failed, attacking Noro swiftly from behind. This allowed the first to turn and wave rather enthusiastically at the investigators.

" _Bonjour_ ," Tsukiyama cooed from behind his mask. "If you busy men don't mind, we'll be taking over from here."

* * *

She held him for a long time.

If he cried, she did not hear it. He just sat limply, face buried in her collarbone, and she thought of all the words she could maybe speak to make him feel a bit of solace.

But none of them seemed good enough. Not after what he'd just gone through.

Touka had never been one to pride herself on a big heart or a soft spirit, but she was exceptionally adept at growing attached to people who she knew, inevitably, would leave. That was her curse. She couldn't avoid the sting of rejection every time someone that she'd grown to care for left without warning.

She felt that Mutsuki Tooru was something of the same. There was no helping her, because she was already determined to protect him by any means necessary, already holding him close without any intention of letting go, and already ready to do just about anything to make him smile. That was how she was. Perhaps it was her big sister instinct that Ayato had shunned her for that kept her taking in strays like this.

"We should get moving," she murmured into his hair. He stiffened against her arms. Slowly, he lifted his head to stare at her face with eyes like church windows made from sea glass. Vibrantly colored, but unmistakably dull.

" _Where_?" His voice was hoarse, his brow taut, his chapped lips parted miserably. Touka sighed, and she placed a hand against his head. He flinched, but after a moment melted beneath her touch, his anxious expression smoothing out into contentment.

"Anteiku is the safest place for you right now," she said. "The manager— he would help you even if you weren't my friend. He'll give you anything you need."

"I don't want to be a ghoul," Mutsuki mumbled.

Touka took his face, his cheeks soft and a little hollow beneath her fingers. The color had been drained from them, but it was difficult to hide the underlying brownness of his skintone. He watched her with his dull, mismatched eyes, and the wariness in him was hard to miss. But there were worse things than exhaustion and wary gazes. There were worse scars than discolored skin and blackened nails.

"This should have never happened to you," Touka told him carefully. "I'm sorry that it came to this. I'm sorry that you're hurting, and that you're scared, and that this new identity has been forced upon you. I'm sorry, and I know it's a burden, but please. Despair is for people who have nothing and no one and not a single hope to spare. Mutsuki, you're _not_ alone, and nobody is going to abandon you once we leave this place."

He blinked rapidly, looking at her through long lashes as though she was speaking in tongues. His fists clenched against her sleeves, fabric bunching between his fingers as he bowed his head.

"Promise?" he whispered.

Touka smoothed his hair back from his forehead and rested her chin against his crown. "I swear," she said, "that I'm on your side. No matter what."

He threw his arms around her real tight, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Touka was nearly knocked off balance, his strength surprising her as he squeezed her like she might disappear in a puff of smoke. She gingerly stroked his hair, which was peppered with silver streaks, likely from the stress the torture had put him under. She'd help him dye it later.

"Okay," she said quietly, "up and at 'em." She pulled him gently to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

Mutsuki did nothing but nod vigorously.

She took him by the hand and led him toward the door. He was very tense as he approached it, as though he couldn't quite believe this was truly happening. Once they stepped through the threshold, he gave a shaky little sigh, and rested his cheek against her shoulder.

"Tell me this was all worth it," he sighed.

"I tell myself every day that it has to be worth it," she told him as she led him down the stairs. She touched the mask at the top of her head, and she shrugged. "Otherwise I can't justify the cost of this fight. You did what you did to protect Kaneki. I've done what I've done to protect my family. That has to be worth something."

Mutsuki's soft footsteps clipped against the silence that followed her words. He seemed to be deep in thought, his eyes downcast and his expression somber. After a minute or so, he nodded. The nod was a swift bob of his head, and a great tightening of his grip on her fingers.

They moved swiftly through the building, sneaking behind pillars and creeping along walls. Mutsuki never let go of her hand, and it was a reassuring feeling. When they began to stumble upon dead ghouls, Touka found herself trying to rationalize. Maybe she could simply… go around? But she felt that they were already too deep within the Aogiri hideout, and if she doubled back now she might end up trapping them.

"What happened here?" Mutsuki asked in a low, dull voice.

Touka knelt down beside a corpse. She lifted the mask, and found she did not recognize the ghoul with some relief. And then some guilt. Silently, she handed the mask off to Mutsuki.

"Doves," she said. "Dunno what you want to do, but if you're sticking with me, you have to disguise yourself."

And with that, she pulled her mask down over her face and stood. Mutsuki stared at her in mild awe before glancing at the mask. Without another word, he pulled it onto his face.

They moved through a corridor, keenly aware of the eerie silence around them. The only sounds to break that silence were the steady crunch of debris under their feet. Mutsuki's bare toes scraped against bits of busted walls and chalky sheetrock. His fingers bit into her palm, bony and sharp. She pulled him closer, and halted abruptly when she heard a distant patter of footfalls.

"Back," she hissed, arm slinging over him defensively as she ushered him toward a dilapidated stairwell. She shot a glance over her shoulder and saw the approaching doves like a flood of white flushing the dark hall. A gunshot broke out, screaming in the silence, and Touka shielded both of them with a curl of her wing as it sprung from her back and lit up the hall in a sea of red. She swore to herself quietly and pushed Mutsuki toward the stairs, banishing her kagune before she used up all her energy. "We're going up!"

They dashed up the stairs, the heavy footfalls of the doves beating at their heels. A sudden whooshing overhead stung her senses, and she instinctively pried her hand from Mutsuki's and pushed him away. The stairs creaked and moaned as a boy crashed between them, landing in a crouch with a mighty sound that shook the steps, broad shoulders hunched and both hands gripping a sword that had pierced through the beaten wood.

Touka stumbled back when the boy pried the blade from the step, face half buried in a hood of fur, tired eyes flicking at her face with the dangerous flash of a rabid cat.

Her back bumped up against something solid, and she realized too late that she'd backed up into someone's chest. An arm was already around her waist, and the moment she began to squirm, her body lurching forward desperately, something cold was up against her throat and grazing her jaw. A quinque thicker than her whole body, like some kind of saw and mace combined. She stilled quickly, her body rigid against the investigator's one-armed grip.

"Stop!" Mutsuki shrieked, hands balled into fists just below his chin, bumping together as though in half-prayer. The dove that had landed between them lifted his sword, and it whistled through the air.

"No," Touka gasped, her kagune shifting uneasily beneath her skin, " _wait_!"

The quinque halted a centimeter beneath Mutsuki's chin, its point close enough that even a pinprick of pressure could draw blood. Touka had not understood why he'd stopped, until she glanced down and saw Mutsuki's kagune had slithered around the leg of the investigator holding her.

The boy with the quinque was young. She saw it in the panic that flushed his face when his eyes flickered from Mutsuki to Touka to the leg that could be torn off at any moment. His knuckles were white against the grip of his sword. His hand shook.

Mutsuki raised his fingers, which trembled violently as they brushed the blade. He grasped the quinque steel with one hand, and lifted the other to his mask.

"Shirazu," he said, squeezing the blade and letting blood bubble up against his palm and slide down his wrist in quick rivulets. "Please. Please stop this."

The boy dropped his quinque. Mutsuki opened his bloody hand and let it clatter between them.

" _Mutsuki_?" Shirazu blurted out shrilly, backing away with hands clapping over his mouth.

The arm around Touka went rigid, and the man holding her seemed to freeze up.

Mutsuki glanced down at his hand. He wiped the blood off on his tattered pants.

"Sorry," Mutsuki mumbled, carefully pulling the frightening skull mask up so that both Shirazu and the man holding Touka could see his face. "This is all a misunderstanding. Amon, will you please let go of my friend?"

The man holding her, Amon, seemed a little reluctant. "This is a ghoul, Mutsuki," he said quietly.

"Yes." Mutsuki stretched out his hand, his grimy, blackened fingernails dragging through the air as he opened his palm. It was still smeared with blood, but even in this dimly lit stairwell it was clearly woundless. "I am only being polite because I value our friendship. But if you hurt her, I… don't think I'd forgive you, Amon."

"Mutsuki," Shirazu gasped, taking a tentative step forward. "Hey, man… what are you saying? What happened to you?"

Mutsuki stared at him blankly. He bowed his head, his mismatched eyes averting sharply. "It's over now," he said. It was all he said.

Amon sighed above her, sounding rather exasperated. "First the Rabbit," he muttered. "Now this…"

 _The Rabbit_ , she thought, alarm going off in her head. _Ayato. He was at the frontline, wasn't he? These two had to have gotten past him to have breached Aogiri this far in_.

This didn't sound good at all.

Hesitantly, Amon lifted his quinque from her throat and unwound his arm from her waist. She lurched away from him, twisting her head to glare up at his smug face. But he was not smug. She realized she'd seen him before, and it was a dull shock. He took a look at her mask and looked vaguely horrified, causing her to worry numbly that he might recognize her.

She climbed the steps and took Mutsuki's offered hand without comment.

Mutsuki watched both Amon and Shirazu with sad, glazed eyes. He released his kagune from Amon's leg, allowing him to bend it gingerly.

He turned to Touka. Carefully, he pulled off his mask and offered it to her. She realized, her heart dropping, that this was his goodbye.

He was leaving her.

Part of her, despite the shudder of shock and rejection that settled in her chest, was not particularly surprised.

Everyone left sometime. Mutsuki was no different.

And then, without warning, a shadow vaulted over the banister and scooped both her and Mutsuki up into its cloak. She didn't see the reactions, but she heard the gasps and shouts even as she cried out in shock. She heard the whistle of air beneath her, her face pressed into someone's chest. They were moving at incredible speed, speed that she could not even dream to rival.

They were deposited on the floor of a balcony, Touka gasping and reaching blindly for Mutsuki. He caught her hand, and then her shoulder, and then hovered protectively over her.

 _I don't need to be protected,_ she thought numbly. But it was a nice gesture anyway.

Then she looked up and got a good look at their abductor.

" _Yomo_?" She jerked to her feet, her heart sinking as she recalled the various thoughts and theories she'd managed to create in her time away from him. The man looked tired and worn, as usual, his pale hair reflecting the bare moonlight. He held a mask in his hands.

"You know him?" Mutsuki asked tentatively. She could practically see the claws retracting.

"Yeah!" Touka blinked rapidly. "Mutsuki this is Yomo Renji. He's my…" She shot a curious glance at the man, who watched her with his usual sad, distant gaze. To declare him her uncle without truly understanding his presence in her life was too presumptuous by far. "My friend."

If Yomo was disappointed, he did not show it. She couldn't help but be disappointment in his lack of disappointment.

"Oh. I see." Mutsuki dusted himself off, rising slowly. "It's nice to meet you. Mr. Yomo."

Yomo nodded curtly.

"What are you doing here?" Touka gasped, taking a step forward. A disturbingly familiar voice forced her to step back again.

"Saving _you_ , of course, _ma chère_!"

"God damn," Touka said flatly, staring off the balcony in stark disbelief. Would it be too much if she just jumped off it? She would be fine if her tombstone said _Here Lies Kirshima Touka, Gone Too Soon. Thanks For Shit, Tsukiyama_.

Mutsuki looked just as thrilled as she was to hear the voice. He shot a glance over his shoulder and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Why is he here?" Mutsuki hissed.

"I'm right here, you know," Tsukiyama said, appearing at Mutsuki's side. Mutsuki stepped away and stuck close to Touka. "I wanted to come! After all, I helped Kaneki _find_ you, didn't I?"

"No," Touka said coolly. "I'm pretty sure that was me."

"Well, I helped some way or another," Tsukiyama said thoughtlessly, waving his hand.

"Oh, wow, you helped?" Touka's eyes narrowed fiercely. "How did it feel doing something productive for the first time in your goddamn life, Tsukiyama? Go fuck yourself."

"We're here to help," Yomo said calmly. "Once you two get out, we'll fall back."

"I need to get Ayato," Touka said.

Yomo stared at her in that far off way, the sad gaze of a lost and lonely boy who saw a ghost in cut and pasted facial features.

He said, "What do you want us to do?"

Touka glanced at Mutsuki. He glanced back.

She gave him the decision. Find Kaneki or find Ayato. Mutsuki replied that he'd go wherever Tsukiyama wasn't going.

"Oh," Tsukiyama gasped, "how rude!"

"I'll go with him." Yomo turned away from her. "You two…"

Touka watched him. He seemed to struggle with his words in a way that she could not properly understand. Whatever thought he had, he just let the sentence die there. And then they left.

Touka and Mutsuki stood silently for a few moments. She sighed. "You were going to join the doves again," she said.

Mutsuki looked at her dully. "It's a fight I felt I should be a part of," he said.

"They're doves!" she cried. "You're a ghoul!"

"Right back at you," Mutsuki said in a voice that was a little too cold for his face. He watched her, his eyes glassy and dull, and she felt the sting of his words when she realized the truth in them. "Neither of us are without our contradictions. I won't choose between friends."

Touka scowled. Not at him, but out into the night, out over the balcony and at the shuddery old buildings. At Aogiri itself, maybe.

"You better find another mask," she told him curtly, whirling away. "There's a pretty good chance we'll be fighting the doves."

"I can't fight them," Mutsuki said quietly.

Touka shot him a dull glance. "Then stay out of my way," she told him in a cold, clipped voice.

He said nothing more for the duration of their trek through the buildings of Aogiri. Mutsuki plucked up a mask somewhere along the way, silently pulling it over his face and following her glumly.

"I see investigators." Mutsuki pulled her back by the arm, hugging her against a pillar. They stood in silence, a whole minute passing with bated breaths before actual investigators came rushing past. They exhaled, relaxing mildly when the coast was clear.

"Where did you see them?" Touka asked him breathlessly.

Mutsuki lifted a hand, his index finger pointing toward a small, innocuous window at the other end of the hall. Touka could hardly see through it, it was so distant and musty.

"Damn," she remarked. She patted him absently on the head. "Well done."

He glanced at her. She imagined that somehow he was smiling, and he leaned into her touch.

"Question." Her hand slid away from his head. "If the doves captured me, would you fight them?"

"That's not a fair question," Mutsuki objected.

"You were very ready to fight your friend back there." Touka jerked her hand offhandedly behind her, her fingers drawing through the air restlessly. "Very, very ready. Don't act like that wasn't what it was, you literally threatened him."

"Well—!" Mutsuki shrunk back. "I—! I don't know what I'd do, okay? You're… you're my friend, and that matters, but I do feel a sense of loyalty to the CCG. Anyway, what does it matter? We're on the same side, aren't we?"

"I don't really know anymore," Touka admitted.

They stood in a familiar silence, heads bowed as a war raged on around them. Mutsuki sighed, and he raised his bony hands to his eyes, pinching them beneath the mask.

"I don't know what I want," he said quietly. His voice rung like a sigh in a cathedral. "I want to be on the side of my friends, but I don't want my friends to hurt you. Or Ayato."

"Even though Ayato hurt _you_?"

Mutsuki pried his fingers from his eyes, and he turned his face away. "I want to hold a grudge," he said slowly, "I feel that I might deserve that, at the very least. But I know Ayato didn't want to do it. So it's hard. Making choices and sticking with it, it's hard. Touka, I've had the time to make my peace with the world around me, and I didn't want to die with resentment weighing on my mind. And then you came to save me, _with_ Ayato, and that was all the answer I needed."

"That's too damn much," Touka mumbled, unable to properly understand what he was saying. Holding a grudge was all she knew how to do. Holding onto hate and anger. It was all she had.

But then she remembered that no, that was not true at all, and she had so much more than her rage to keep her going.

She was so much more than her hate, and nobody needed more convincing of that than herself.

"Bad stuff happens all the time," Mutsuki whispered. "I… I went through something… and I don't feel quite like myself anymore. But I don't feel like wanting to die, and I don't feel like killing anyone, and I think I'm really in the wrong place for those feelings."

"You went through something _unthinkable_ ," Touka sighed, touching Mutsuki's shoulder gingerly. "I was there. I did that to you. I won't forget it."

"And I'll never blame you," Mutsuki said firmly. It was the first thing he'd said in days that sounded solid. The rest of his words were wisps in the wind.

She laughed in disbelief. "Come on," she said, tugging him by the hand. "Let's go find my stupid brother."

They moved close to the entrance, and crouched below a busted window. "What do you see?" she whispered to Mutsuki.

He peered through the broken glass, fingers gripping the windowsill tightly. He leaned forward, his mask nearly scraping the jagged edges. Then he jerked back.

"Your brother." He spoke faintly, his voice a husk. Touka crouched, her heart leaping into her throat, and she wondered about his tone. It scared her. She felt a chill that stole her very voice. Her very soul.

What was she supposed to say? Everything around her was a blank slate— a movie screen gone white, burned up film still flapping against the reel. She supposed it was all very fitting. The doves would have come anyway you spun it, but Ayato was here in this moment because of her.

Fate was a cruel little beast, wasn't it?

"Touka," Mutsuki exhaled, not looking at her directly. "Touka, go. Touka, stop him! If he fights anymore, he'll die!"

She knelt in pools of stray moonlight and starlit fractures of broken glass. She looked at Mutsuki, his words hitting her like stray bullets, and she thought about Yomo. About his sad eyes, his longing gaze, his inability to communicate properly to anyone— _especially_ her. She thought about wings, about the red trails that stained the night, her wings and her brother's, and she thought about wishing she could just rip them out by the roots.

To be normal was a child's fantasy.

They were children no longer, it seemed.

Shakily, she rose to her feet. The air stung her throat when she breathed. She looked through the window, and saw a ring of doves. And then she saw a burst of red staining the night, an unmistakable glow washing over everything around it. It was mighty and it was breathtaking and without warning, it was gone.

All that was left was screams.

 _No,_ she thought, and it was all she thought. For everything else in her was screaming too.

She stumbled toward the door blindly. She ripped the door right off its hinges and met the frigid air as she might meet an old friend. She leapt at it. Her feet bounced off the steps that led to the entrance, and she vaulted herself into the eye of the storm, skidding across asphalt with her kagune ablaze. She broke the line, sending doves scattering back as her wing beat viciously at the air.

On his knees, face in hands, was her little brother. She saw nothing but his ruined back, great gouges slicing through his skin and staining his jacket so crimson it became blacker than a hollow sky. She could see his shoulder blades in the glint of the moonlight mixed with the glow of her kagune. Her heartbeat accelerated, her eyes widening behind her mask, and she realized the extent of the damage as she dropped down beside him. He didn't raise his face to her, but she knew that he knew she was there.

Some dove decided to advance. Another dove barked at him, "Hold you attack!"

She looked up at the dove, and a whole new wave of horror, even more intense than the one before it overwhelmed her. It was the sight of the armor that triggered the rest of her senses to catch up, to recognize this abomination. She felt sick, nausea clawing at her stomach and burning her esophagus. She wanted nothing more than to rip this man apart, to feel his limbs crack as the bones were crushed and tendons were ripped and muscle was cut to ribbons. She wanted to paint the whole goddamn world with his blood.

But even in her blind rage, the whole goddamn world red with its glow, she found herself hovering protectively over Ayato. She plucked him up with little resistance on his part, and she realized that was because he was too weak to resist. Blood was pooling into her hand. He sank.

She shot a glare at the dove before her. She held her brother tight in her arms. His head lolled weakly, and he murmured something into her neck. He murmured it again, leaving her shocked and angry and unable to make any sort of logical decision.

"Leave me," he breathed against the crook of her neck. "Leave me... Leave me…"

She'd never been so angry in her entire life.

She thought she might shatter the ground if she took a step forward.

Touka hugged Ayato closer to her, and she bowed her head so her mask brushed against his forehead.

"Never," she said shakily. All of her rage and all of her despair shook her voice all at once, and she couldn't take it. She was going to scream and she was going to rain retribution like hellfire upon these doves.

A sharp, fearful scream ripped through the night, and Touka whirled around just in time to see a salient kagune yank a man by his legs and toss him away. This broke the ring surrounding her, and gave her a way out. She bolted forward, jumping up and kicking off the face of an investigator that reached to grab her out of the air. The kagune that had tugged the man away caught her around the waist and yanked her up, dragging her with a startling quickness toward a balcony that overlooked the courtyard.

Ayato didn't so much as cling to her.

Her landing was abrupt, and it took a lot to shield Ayato from the blow. She skidded to her knees against the balcony. Mutsuki was crouched on the rail, his bare toes curled against the stone. His kagune returned to him, and was banished.

"Is he…?" Mutsuki cocked his head. Then he shook it. "Never mind. I can tell he's breathing. Let's go."

Mutsuki jumped off the balcony and turned away. Touka stayed on her knees. She looked down at Ayato, whose body was draped over her, his blood staining her jeans and the very shirt she'd stolen from him, and she watched his breath mist against the cruel winter air, and she stared at his twisted face as he bore the pain he'd caused himself.

"Touka…" Ayato's voice was raspy and thin. He did not open his eyes, and she could not tell if he was calling her name feverishly, or if he truly had a request.

"I'm here." She smoothed his sweaty hair from his face, and she asked herself if this was real, because it felt like a dream. Or a nightmare.

"Touka," he whispered, his head tossing from one side to the other restlessly. "Dad… Dad, he— he's—"

"I know." Touka's voice was thin as well. It was reedy, and it poked at the air like an out of tune flute. "I know… but we're still alive, right? And we're together. And that's what matters."

"He didn't…" Beneath his long lashes, his eyes squeezed shut, his skin began to glisten. "He didn't want to leave… he… Touka… he didn't abandon us, he—!" Ayato's voice broke. "He loved us. Didn't he? He… he loved us. Didn't he…?"

Touka couldn't breathe. She didn't know if he knew what he was saying, if the pain had left him deaf to his own words, but she had never heard him sound so hopeless before, and she thought it might kill her.

Tears filled up her eyes as she cradled him closer. They fell as she spoke.

"He did," she whispered.

Ayato took a breath. He rested his head against her shoulder, and he buried his face in shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cohibeo, cohibere, cohibui, cohibitus.  
> to hold together, hold close.  
> to clothe.  
> to keep.


	31. gestamen

The shock settled in as one might expect— it knocked him down. This might have been due to Noro deciding to throw his kagune Kaneki's way, but he was truly on his knees. And Urie knelt with him, spear digging into the battered floorboards, his breaths beating at the air senselessly. His cold black eyes flickered anxiously toward his men.

"Fall back!" he cried.

"Go," Kaneki urged him.

Then the man looked at him. There was so much there that was unspoken, so much that needed to be told, but Urie was a quiet, self-contained man, and his honor came before reason. He continued to kneel, gloved hands tight around the neck of his spear. There were beads of sweat clinging to his brow.

"Are you staying then?" Urie's expression was cool even now, with the fighting only meters away, with their lives weighing on an off balance and teetering on the edge of a chasm. "Half ghoul?"

Kaneki took a look at the scene unfolding. He knew the consequences of Anteiku coming into this fight.

"If I stayed, would you agree to go?"

Urie closed his eyes. He didn't seem to particularly want to, and he was a stubborn man to be sure. But his expression tightened, and his shoulders stiffened, and he looked at Kaneki sharply.

"I trust," he said, "that you won't die here?"

"No, sir," Kaneki said firmly.

Urie exhaled sharply. He clapped Kaneki on the shoulder and rose to his feet. "Then," he declared, "we'll move out! Retreat!"

Kaneki rose shakily to his feet. Urie paused to glance back at him.

It was hard to imagine what this man must be feeling. A half ghoul barging in, pushing him out of a fight, insisting that he leave for his own safety. If Urie was an Associate Special Class Investigator, he was probably stronger than Kaneki was right now. It was hard to even admit that, to even think that someone might be stronger than him and be okay with that. He itched to move and to scrape by the skin of his teeth and find himself to be the fucking strongest. But that was not possible now.

Not this time.

Kaneki watched Urie slowly retreat, brow taut and body sluggish. Kaneki did not know much about Noro, but he knew enough. Humans were not going to cut it this time. Hell, even three ghouls would only be able to hold him off.

He dusted himself off and turned to the fight that had ensued behind him. Tsukiyama was making quick attacks, thrusting and parrying and skidding back sharply. He seemed a little distraught.

Kaneki took a few steps back and leapt the chasm. He could see the basement beneath, busted pipes twisted and leaking through the gap. His boots clapped against the dusty floor, and he ducked into a roll, his kagune lurching out and slashing at Noro's legs. Noro stepped aside easily.

"Nice of you to join us," Tsukiyama purred.

"Shut the fuck up." Kaneki leapt up and slid to the side near the stairwell, his kagune twisting around him. He noted the other figure, but he couldn't tell if it was Yomo or Uta. "What are you even _doing_ here? Are you crazy?"

"Are you?" Tsukiyama retorted.

Kaneki ducked the lurch of Noro's ungodly kagune, a monstrous arm the spat and hissed like a beast with its own mind. It swallowed up anything it touched. Kaneki kicked off the floor and sliced through it cleanly, using three arms together to rip the kagune in half. He skidded back, shouldering a wall and blinking as the severed kagune began to shudder and bubble, twitching and writhing like a dying insect. And then it was healed.

He exhaled sharply.

Retreating seemed like a smart idea.

But he didn't _want_ to. He didn't want to run away from this. It felt way too much like a defeat, to admit that he was not strong enough to fight this fight, not even with assistance. But his breath was uneven, his feet falling fast and beating away at the unstable floor. He thought if he could move fast enough, if he could catch the pace of the other ghoul— which he was sure now was Yomo— he might really be able to continue this.

He slipped up.

His foot snagged in a hole in the floor, and he found himself eating dust. His head spun wildly as he realized the implications of his own mistake. He could just… die.

When he pushed himself to his elbows, he felt a shadow looming over him. It was huge, yawning, and hungry in a way that made him shiver.

 _Remember how you'd eat and eat and eat_ , he thought numbly _, without a care in the world?_

He saw how wrong he was. Now, it seemed so clear what was right and what was wrong, with his heartbeat stuttering in grand fear of dying horribly, dying without dignity, dying lying on his belly with a mouthful of dust and a heart full of regret and a mind full of empty apologies.

 _Will I be remembered,_ he wondered faintly _, if I die here? Will dying be worth it? Was any of this worth it if I go through all the same motions, live the same lie, face the same truths, and still meet Death in the end?_

He couldn't say. He was lost in his thoughts, in his fears, in his revelation that he _wasn't_ strong enough— and he never would be.

To look back at your mistakes and meet them with an understanding, to blink and realize that you are more than what the past has built for you, that you are more than what fate has supposedly molded you into, it was something that he could not completely grasp, but fully appreciated.

If he were to die right now, at Noro's hand, he would regret so much. But at the very least he had the sense to know what regret was, and how the heart could grow, and heal, and move forward even when death was creeping at his back. He was changing, and that was perhaps the greatest shock of all.

He didn't _want_ to die.

He didn't _want_ to be the strongest.

All he wanted was to find Mutsuki and Touka and Shirazu and get the fuck out of this awful place.

 _This is what it means to learn_ , he thought in mild awe, _to grow._

Noro's kagune came bearing down on him, and in response his kagune curled up tightly until it hovered over him like a shield. The moment the kagunes impacted, he felt it in his legs and in his head, the rattling of his bones reminding him that somehow, in spite of everything, he was still alive.

Everything was happening now. It was happening so fast, and he wasn't ready. He didn't think he could face the future, and he didn't know if he could turn away from his past, and he was stuck in this ever changing present, using every bit of his will to just survive, just for this moment, just long enough to keep breathing.

The kagune lifted from his, and his locked muscles seemed to loosen for just a moment. It was long enough for him to pry his foot from the hole he'd tripped over and fling himself out of the way.

He was caught by the arm and dragged backwards abruptly.

"Wha—?" He looked up, and saw that it was Yomo pulling him toward a window. "What are you doing? We have to keep fighting—!"

Kaneki was cut off by his feet being lifted off the ground and his shoulder crashed through glass, sending shards raining down around him. He saw nothing, felt nothing, but the wind striking at his face and the tickle of glass as it bounced harmlessly off his cheeks.

When he crashed onto his side, he attempted to roll right into a crouch. But Yomo already had him by the collar. He dragged him upright and pulled him away from the building and the fight.

Kaneki realized very quickly that they were really retreating, and he didn't know how to feel about that.

" _Wait_!" Kaneki wrenched himself away, his feet falling in a quick and awkward stumble across the worn cement. "What are you doing?"

"Quick as a whip," a familiar, sardonic voice billowed with the wind and slapped him across the face. "Tell me, Kaneki, do you ever actually learn?"

He raised his head uncertainly, glancing past Yomo and at the masked figure behind him. His hair was white beneath the moonlight, but his roots were showing and dark. Maybe Kaneki's shock reflected on his face, because the figure laughed in disbelief.

"Didn't expect me to show up, huh?" He carefully lifted his mask, just for a moment, and let the moonlight hit his face.

"Nishio!" Kaneki blurted, the words _Nishio-senpai_ falling fast from his lips, unrestrained and all too enthusiastic.

"Ah…" Nishiki's brow knitted minutely. "Again with that _senpai_ crap. Bro, I'm not even a student anymore. Who gives a fuck? Just call me Nishiki."

"I—!" Kaneki blinked wildly. He turned to Yomo. "Why did you all come? I told Hide that Anteiku can't get involved!"

"Oh," Nishiki snorted, "that asshole relayed the message. The manager listened. We're here out of our own volition. Get a grip, you piece of shit. You put us in this situation in the first place."

Kaneki searched his brain to see if he had plausible deniability on his side, but he realized quickly that was completely untrue. He had no plausible deniability, or even just implausible deniability. It sucked. He'd really fucked up in the eyes of everyone here.

"I thought you were following Touka," Yomo said suddenly. Kaneki actually jumped. It had been so long since he'd heard him speak.

"Got separated," Nishiki admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Those doves that caught 'em the first time came back. One of them knew my face, and I had to book it."

"You saw Touka?" Kaneki gasped, lurching forward. "Is she alright—? Wait, are you talking about Amon?" Kaneki's hand met his forehead in exasperation. "Shit!"

"Yeah, buddy," Nishiki said flatly. "All of the above. Congrats, your prize is the knowledge that you fucked up beyond recognition. Whoo."

"Is she okay, at least?" Kaneki blinked, words flying from his mouth without a care. "Did she get away? She didn't hurt anyone, did she? Was she with Mutsuki?"

"God, does he shut up?" Nishiki jerked a thumb Kaneki's way and rolled his eyes. "Let's just all agree to calm down for two seconds, kay? I'm sure Touka's fine."

"But was she with Mutsuki?" Kaneki heard his own voice, and it was so breathless and urgent that he didn't quite believe it was his own.

Nishiki gave him a quizzical glance. "Yeah," he said. "Why wouldn't she be?"

Kaneki stared at him blankly. "Did Hide forget to mention," Kaneki said cautiously, "the torture thing?"

"The what now?"

"I was aware," Yomo said.

"What?" Nishiki jerked away from Yomo, looking sincerely betrayed. "Goddammit, Yomo! Use your words! I just thought that kid was stuck here and we had to help him out, I didn't think—!"

"Shh!" Kaneki lurched forward and snatched Nishiki by the shoulder, slapping his palm over his mouth. He pulled the man into a narrow passage between buildings, and Yomo followed quickly. They waited for a few moments.

Then, without warning, Tsukiyama appeared behind them.

"Boo," he cooed. "Expecting someone else?"

"Oh my god." Kaneki took a deep breath. He had to stay calm. There were too many things happening at once.

"You guys left me in a tough spot." Tsukiyama lifted his mask just to pout at the three of them. "It's like you wanted that beast to kill me!"

"I mean…" Kaneki's voice trailed off, the suggestion thick in his words. His hand slipped from Nishiki's mouth, and Nishiki's dull, incredulous expression was made complete with the thinning out of his lips.

"Pretty much," Nishiki said in a thin, monotone voice.

Yomo simply didn't answer.

"Well," Tsukiyama huffed. "Lucky for you, I survived. Now, Nishio! Where did Kirishima end up?"

"I lost her." Nishiki sighed, rubbing the unruly silver hair at the top of his head. "She was going back to the first building, though, from what I saw."

"Why didn't you just go with her?" Kaneki snapped. "Instead of following her, you should have just gone with her! She's not that unreasonable."

"No offense, man, but I think I know Touka a _little_ better than you," Nishiki said coolly.

Kaneki wanted to object to that— he wanted to say that he knew Touka all too well, but he realized the implications of that, and he realized he simply couldn't. Being from the future meant that he knew people so intimately, but it didn't even matter, because none of them knew him like he knew them.

He sighed. "I don't like this." He wiped the sweat from his brow, and his hand came back slimy and red. He stared at it dumbly, and then he remembered how bloody he was. "Fuck."

As he scrubbed at his cheek with his sleeve, Nishiki, Tsukiyama, and Yomo were watching him dully.

"You're kinda scary," Nishiki admitted. "How many ghouls did you kill trying to get in here?"

Kaneki continued to scrub mutely. He didn't want Mutsuki to see him like this.

"Glad to know you're on our side," Tsukiyama said in a bright, melodious voice. He clapped Kaneki on the shoulder, and as he did so the sound of shoes scraping gravel, feet skidding to an abrupt stop caused the four of them to freeze. They all turned toward the mouth of the narrow passage. There was a figure, a dark silhouette blotting out stray rays of moonlight. Kaneki stopped breathing.

Yomo reacted first. Kaneki had hardly blinked before Yomo had leapt forward and backhanded the figure across the jaw. That one act was enough to send the figure reeling, feet shuffling madly as he backpedaled, trying to find balance. Then Yomo grasped him by the front of his shirt, preventing him from getting away, and flung him to the ground between himself and the three others.

A sword clattered, skidding to a stop at Kaneki's feet. Cautiously, he bent to pick it up.

His eyes widened in horror and recognition, his fingers frozen against the grip of Tsunagi.

"The _fuck_?" Nishiki cried as thick fabric shifted and settled, and the sound a kagune whistling through the air brought Kaneki back to his sense. He raised his head just in time to feel the poking of an ukaku's spines jabbing uncomfortably against his throat.

In the bleak darkness of the evening, he saw the gleam of Shirazu's single kakugan as his angry eyes twitched viciously, his brow a taut shadow that nearly eclipsed the flame that had grown from within him. Kaneki had never seen something so terrible, so disheartening, as watching the light in Shirazu's eyes turn to rage so palpable that he could feel the heat of it radiating on his face.

"Shirazu," he uttered.

His own voice was soft and strange, something in it he hardly recognized. It was the sting of heartache resonating in his throat, causing his words to shake like windows in a storm. It was barebacked affection and bare-boned despair.

The moment he'd uttered Shirazu's name, all the others ceased their planned attacks. He'd noted how Nishiki had hunched over, kakugan alight and fierce, how Tsukiyama's kagune was already pointed in an elegant spiral, grazing Shirazu's ear, how Yomo was hovering over Shirazu like a yawning shadow, like a child's creeping nightmare.

They'd all been ready to kill him until Kaneki had spoken, his emotions raw and open for all to see like a fresh, gaping wound.

And then, as he stared into Shirazu's furious eyes, he watched the fire in them burst. A firehose had been administered somewhere within him, and it filled up his whole head, starting from his lips— once set bare, crooked and threatening, now twisted and pained and trembling weakly— to his nose— once scrunched in disgust, now twitching and sniffling— to his eyes— once narrowed and frightful, vicious and vibrant with the sting of betrayal, now melting like ice cubes in the height of summer and leaking fast like condensation dripping against a glass. His arm, which half supported his kagune, shook desperately against it.

"Why?" the boy asked in a voice that broke through the tension that had baked the cool air, and cracked like thunder on a windless night. "Why…? Why would you…?"

Kaneki watched Shirazu's pitiable expression only become more distraught. As seconds ticked, nothing happening here or there but a little hand ticking away at nothing.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Kaneki said softly. "What did I do?"

"Are you _joking_?" Shirazu's voice, shaky and thin, somehow became something like a slap. It knocked Kaneki down. It reminded him that he was a selfish creature among selfish beasts, and caring was as cruel as not caring. "Is this a joke? Is this a— a _test_? Why? Why would ya keep playing us like that, if you were just gonna betray us in the end?"

"I haven't betrayed you."

Shirazu's eyes flashed wide, and Kaneki thought for a breathless moment that he was really going to do it. The pressure on his throat became truly painful. Shirazu could send Kaneki's head flying off, and it was nothing less than he deserved.

"How can ya say that?" Shirazu snapped. "How can ya pretend like you aren't betraying us _right now_? I believed in you! Ya told me… ya said we were getting Mutsuki back. He just got kidnapped _again_ , and you're just hanging around here all chummy with the people who kidnapped him!"

"We didn't kidnap the kid," Nishiki stated incredulously. "We're here to help save him, idiot! Kaneki, who is this?"

"Shirazu," Kaneki said softly, "meet some of Hide's coworkers, Nishiki and Yomo. The other guy is Tsukiyama."

Shirazu's brow furrowed. "I… I remember you and Hide said something about him." His eyes narrowed. "Ya said not to trust him under any circumstance, right?"

 _Shit_ , Kaneki thought _, I did say that_.

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, Shirazu, but…" Kaneki closed his eyes. He lifted his chin back, and the tips of Shirazu's kagune drew blood from his throat. He cracked an eye open and smiled. "I'm a dirty hypocrite."

"Yeah, man," Shirazu hissed, "I figured!"

Shirazu reached out and snatched Kaneki by the shoulder. As though he was going anywhere.

"Calm down, kid, before you actually kill him!" Nishiki stepped forward, hands held up in surrender. Shirazu didn't even look at him. He only had eyes for Kaneki. It was Kaneki's mistakes he was clinging to, and Kaneki was all the blame he could find.

"Explain," Shirazu gasped. "Explain everything. Why did Mutsuki end up here? What's wrong with him? What happened to him? Did you let this happen?"

Kaneki froze. Every word, every accusation, was a lash to his cheek.

"You…" Kaneki sat frozen, his knees cramping against the cement. "How could you think… that I… that I let…?" He couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Because," Shirazu whispered, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, "because ya never _say_ anything!" Shirazu took a breath that sounded strained and pained. He breathed like there was something preventing the air from reaching his lungs. "I—I didn't know what to do! I saw Mutsuki, and I… I _hurt_ him, and I don't know what to do because ya weren't there, and ya never said—! Ya never say a goddamn thing about what ya really want! Who _are_ you, Kaneki?"

They sat in silence. Tsukiyama did not make any theatric comments. Yomo stood where he stood. Nishiki had no witticisms to spare.

There was no real answer to this question. Once a disappointment, always a disappointment.

"I just… want to do the right thing," Kaneki said distantly. "For everyone. For you, for me, for Mutsuki. Even for the rest of the CCG. Even for the ghouls I've never met. I… I want to build a better future, Shirazu. I want to let this war end."

Shirazu's fingers bit into Kaneki's shoulder like his bones were sacred, and digging through his flesh and muscle was the only way to get to them. His kagune, which gave off the slightest of glows, illuminating Shirazu's face eerily, framing his shadowy eyes and causing his tears to glint madly, was uneven and spiny against Kaneki's throat. One slip up, one slight twitch forward, and Kaneki could see his head splitting from his spinal cord and rolling against the cement.

Without warning, the pressure lifted from his neck, and a sound escaped Shirazu's lips that seemed to make the whole world tilt. Shirazu released Kaneki's shoulder and lifted his trembling hands to his face.

"It's not fair," he whispered, tears flooding his face as his kagune dissipated in a faint breath of dust. "That's no excuse… you're not making any sense… I should… I should do my job. I should turn ya in…" He clapped his hands over his eyes, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and rubbing them furiously. "I… I should do my job…"

He cried. There was nothing to say now, nothing that could soothe this ache, nothing that could easily mend this rift between them. Shirazu cried into his hands, cried with great breaths, cried with no restraint, cried like his life was ending, and no one stopped him. The others stood, eyes averted partially out of respect, partially out of awkwardness. They had no idea what to do now.

All that was clear was that Shirazu was not going to do his job.

They were safe, but at what cost?

Kaneki made a decision.

"Go," he told Yomo, not looking the man in the eye. "Please. Find Touka and Mutsuki."

"We only separated," the man said quietly, "to find you. It was all Touka asked of me."

"Touka is used to disappointment." Kaneki closed his eyes. Shirazu's sniffles and sobs had quieted, as though he was holding them in. He shook his head. "I'm not worth it. I'm not worth worrying over. Touka… doesn't she know that by now? She shouldn't waste her worry on me."

Yomo said nothing as Nishiki scoffed and muttered something like, "You've got that right."

Yomo looked down at him through his mask. He said, "Give her a little more credit. She doesn't worry lightly."

"I know," he said.

"Then you know," Yomo said, "that she'll be waiting."

"Yeah."

Yomo gave him one last look. He brushed past him, past Nishiki and Tsukiyama, and started forward without a word. The other two men were left in a stunned silence.

"Should we follow?" Tsukiyama asked in a curious voice.

"Goddamn…" Nishiki sighed. "Probably. Yo, Kaneki, are you gonna be okay?"

"Once I see Mutsuki," Kaneki sighed, "I'll be just fine. Go on, okay? I'll catch up eventually."

Nishiki eyed him uncertainly, but shrugged anyway. "Suit yourself." And with that, he walked away.

Tsukiyama lingered for a few moments, probably considering what words to use. Shirazu was still shaking, still audibly crying, and Kaneki felt so awful— so _empty_. It was guilt and fear and rage all bundled together like energy that had just burnt out.

"I was expecting more," Tsukiyama admitted. "Especially from you."

Kaneki knelt, eyes dull as they watched Shirazu sink slowly, falling closer and closer towards the ground.

"Sorry to disappoint."

He knew he didn't sound sorry at all.

He didn't even care anymore.

When they were alone, there was nothing but silence between them. No words could be spoken while Shirazu cried and Kaneki sat.

An eternity could have passed. It made no difference.

The truth was, Kaneki didn't understand how it had come to this. He'd done everything he could. He'd pulled every possible string he could to get here, revealed his and Washuu's secrets to numerous investigators, killed dozens of ghouls, effectively abandoned and possibly ruined his relationship with Shirazu, and for what?

Mutsuki hadn't even _been_ there!

Kaneki was not one to seek glory. Power, yes. Glory, no. He didn't care about the gratitude or the recognition, he just wanted Mutsuki safe.

But he didn't even know if that much was true right now, and it was so frightening. He was scared that he'd fucked up everything for nothing. That Mutsuki could just die at any moment.

All Kaneki wanted was to just see him. Was that too much to ask?

Shirazu cried. He cried like he'd never see the light of day again. Kaneki didn't know why.

It wasn't like they really knew each other that well. Even if Kaneki had betrayed him somehow, it wasn't all that harsh. They may have gotten close in the past few weeks, but they were still essentially strangers. Shirazu's tears over their crushed friendship seemed overabundant and dramatic.

"I'm sorry."

Kaneki sat, frozen in shock, and he wondered if he'd heard that right.

"I'm sorry." Shirazu's shaky shoulders shook some more. His fingers peeked through his feathery yellow hair. "I'm sorry." He lowered his head, and then lowered his shoulders, and then lowered his spine. "I'm sorry."

He lowered himself to the ground. He pressed his forehead to the concrete and pressed his hands flat against the battered stone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

Then Kaneki realized. Those tears had never been out of rage. It was Shirazu's own guilt that was leaving him awash in emotions that Kaneki could not fathom.

"Why...?" Kaneki shifted uncomfortably. "Why are you apologizing to me? Don't you hate me now?"

"I wanna hate you," Shirazu gasped, "I wanna hate you so damn bad! But… but, Kanekun, I wanna trust you too!"

He did not raise his head.

Kaneki covered his mouth with the white protrusions of his knuckles.

His own tears met his fingers hotly, a vicious reminder of where he was, who he was, and how far he'd fallen.

* * *

Fall behind. Fall back. Fall fast.

What did it mean to fall, and what did it mean to know that you have fallen?

Life was a game that he didn't know how to play.

But he was learning.

He sat on his perch, callused, bloodstained feet balancing on the cool cement rail. He watched the investigators below chatter and scatter. They watched him too. His eyes met Shinohara's.

For all that had been done, for all that he'd failed to do, was it so surprising that it had ended up like this?

He had so many questions, and there were no true answers to seek.

Before they could start shooting at him, he decidedly dropped down from his perch and turned his eyes toward Touka. She was cradling her injured brother, her head bowed low, their dark hair mingling together and curtaining their faces.

He didn't want to break up such a tender scene, but they were now officially targets. Mutsuki didn't like that idea. He didn't want to be chased and hunted down and branded a traitor.

"We have to go," he told her. His voice was hoarse. He wondered if his words were too harsh, if he sounded unkind, and he wanted desperately to shrink back from that. He didn't want to be rude or mean or cruel, especially not to Touka. But he was so tired. And there was only so much time before they'd find themselves in another fight.

She stiffened, her shoulders hunching up to her ears. He heard her breath rattle against the chilly air. And then she looked up.

"Yomo," she said faintly. "We have to find him."

Mutsuki watched her dully.

"No," he said.

Touka's face flashed with a sudden contortion of rage. " _No_?" she hissed. "No? What does that mean, no? I'm not leaving without Yomo."

"First it was Ayato, then it was Kaneki, now it's Yomo." Mutsuki closed his eyes. "I get it. I really do. There are people I care about here— people who could be hurt right now. Because of me. But we've already made it as far as we can possibly go. Backtracking just to make sure one person got out safely is counterproductive. And dangerous."

"He's only here because of me!" Touka shook her head fiercely. "I won't abandon him!"

Mutsuki cautiously knelt down beside her. He felt so strange. Phantom pains tingled his fingers and toes. His chest was tight, uncomfortably constricted due to days and days of extraneous stress. His binder might have actually done some real damage, if his healing abilities were not what they were. He felt like he existed now as some kind of shell of himself, and he was afraid to see what his reflection would show him.

"This is the decision I've made," he said quietly. "We are taking Ayato. We are leaving. Right now."

"But—!"

"I don't care," he cut in, his eyes squeezing shut. "I don't care how much you want to be a hero. Aogiri is in shambles. The CCG isn't in much better shape. Your brother is seriously hurt. We're both exhausted. I won't fight my friends, and you _can't_ keep fighting as you are now. The only logical choice is to run."

"Aren't you scared?" she asked, searching his face intently. "What if Kaneki is dead? Or your other friends? What if—?"

"Stop!" He clamped his hands over his ears, and found that his heartbeat was drumming in his throat. He felt it throbbing against his face, his skin tingling like it wanted to slough off. "Please, please— just shut up! Let's just go. Touka, please, please, let's just go…"

He heard it. The deep, vicious thudding of his own heart. It mocked him.

 _Alive, alive, alive,_ it sang, _despite everything you're still alive, alive, alive_.

It should have felt good to have a song sung just to mark his own perseverance, his own will to live. But he felt so drained.

He had really expected to just die in that chair.

Now he had to deal with life again. He didn't like that.

He would now have to deal with everything he'd avoided for just about forever. It was so lonely, just existing the way that he did, the way that he had, and he didn't know if he could face his past now. It all felt so trivial.

Alone, alive, alone, alive— was that all?

There were so many things that just didn't make sense anymore. Like being sad about nothing.

Right now, he was pretty much sad about everything.

A light, cool touch grazed over the backs of his hands, and he flinched. He knew this touch, and it shocked him, because he thought— well, it wasn't fair to think such things. He relaxed against Touka's hands, his muscles unwinding as he allowed her to pry his fingers from his hair and his palms from his ears.

"Look at me," Touka said. It was so strange, being around her. She had an undeniable soft streak, something amazing and pure that struck his heart. Touka was kind by nature. She was kind, and she was tough, and she didn't take shit from anyone, but most of all she seemed so confident inside her own skin that Mutsuki felt an acute pang of envy whenever he heard her speak so calmly, so clearly. When he looked up at her, her expression was washed free of concern and replaced with a spark of determination. "Let's get out of here, Mutsuki."

She was a much needed relief in a sea of suffering.

Touka gathered her brother up onto her back. Mutsuki helped by steadying the boy, who must have passed out at some point because his eyes were closed serenely and his breathing was shallow and uneven.

"How does his back look?"

They were making their way out the rear of the building. They planned on cutting through the forest and escaping underground.

Mutsuki spared a glance at Ayato's back. His clothing, like Mutsuki's, was in tatters. Half his back was bare, and in the silver glow of moonlight it glistened black and hollow, a grotesque dip of two gaping wounds that were still bleeding profusely.

"Is there any… any hospital we could go to?" Mutsuki asked uncertainly.

Touka shot him a cold look over her shoulder. Not even the burden of Ayato's weight could alleviate the bite of her gaze.

"Welcome to the ghoul world, Mutsuki," she said coolly. "There are no hospitals, no doctors, no real care for us. We just go home, lick our wounds, and hope we don't die."

Mutsuki swallowed the words he wanted to say. He imagined only a week earlier he might have let his voice speak such shrill and whiny words. _But that's just not fair!_ Or maybe even, _There must be someone on your side!_

He knew better now. Everyone involved knew it wasn't fair. Everyone involved knew that no one was going to care if some random ghoul died.

Mutsuki sighed. "It looks bad," he admitted. If Touka was disheartened by his words, she made little appearance of it. They just kept walking, cutting around the building and stepping into the woods. "He's still bleeding, and it doesn't look like the wounds are going to close any time soon. Normally, I'd… I'd recommend stitches, but…"

Touka laughed bitterly. "Yeah, no," she said. "That's not gonna work."

"I know."

They continued on in a short silence. He knew she was thinking about the friends she'd left behind because he was thinking the same thoughts. Kaneki. Shirazu. Amon. Maybe even Suzuya. What would become of them? Was it cruel of him to not even check to make sure they were okay?

He'd almost abandoned Touka to stay with them. Now he was abandoning them to stay with Touka. He couldn't make up his mind.

They made their way into the underground, dropping down into a passage that Touka said would lead them right to Anteiku. Mutsuki trusted her.

The silence stretched and writhed, and he felt it press up against them like humidity. Touka walked, hunched over and steady, her brother held tightly to her back. Mutsuki watched her, and he thought about Kaneki. Kaneki, who he knew had come for him, who was somewhere back in Aogiri searching for him. Kaneki, who he'd fought so hard to protect.

It wasn't like Mutsuki wanted Kaneki to see him. Not now. Not like this.

 _I've changed_. It was less of an absent thought than it was a jolting revelation. He looked down at his hands. They were stained. His new flesh was still tender. It was whiter than the rest of him somehow. His fingernails were blackened, discolored, blood congealed beneath them. He opened and closed his fingers, and he remembered picking up Yamori's heart and thinking that he was the one with the power now.

It made him sick to his stomach.

If he could, he'd throw it all back.

Power? Who wanted that?

All he'd ever wanted was to live in peace as himself.

Now he wasn't even sure who he was or if he could ever be a person worth liking, worth loving, worth even an ounce of time or care.

He was scared. He didn't want to face reality, or truth, because both were horrors he didn't know how to live with.

Living was so hard sometimes. Even harder, perhaps, when you open yourself to the possibility of dying. When you start to believe death was imminent. When you convince yourself you are a goner. When you've made your dues, made your peace, offered up your prayers to any god that will hear you.

This was the struggle of the tormented. The soldier, the prisoner of war, the interned laborer, the death row convict.

This was the loss of a survivor.

So. Would this loss… this madness, this shell shock, this post-traumatic stress— would it kill him? In the end?

Only time would tell.

He continued to watch Touka, her strength causing him to pause. Here he was, wondering if his inevitable nightmares would drive him to suicide… and she was just carrying on. Had she not suffered alongside him? Of course he'd taken the pain, but Yamori had forced her to carry out his torture to torture _her_. His pain had been physical, but there were more ways to torture a person than by cutting. What was she thinking? How did she feel? She'd been so desperate to help him, so sad to hurt him, and he wished he could erase all those awful images from her mind. Peace was a rare and beautiful thing. Touka deserved that, didn't she?

"Why don't you rest a bit?" Mutsuki tried to catch up to her, tried to move closer, but she just shot him a stony look and continued to trudge.

"My brother," she said firmly. "My load. He's not leaving my side."

"Technically," Mutsuki said, "if I carried him and stood next to you, he wouldn't be leaving your side."

She blinked. Her brow furrowed, and her face twisted in irritation. "Shut up," she muttered.

Mutsuki's bare feet scraped the floor. It smelled funny down here. He saw through the yawning darkness, and it amazed him. All his senses seemed to be alive and running on fumes, starving themselves to make themselves reach farther, go the necessary lengths. He had thoughts that he could not comprehend and detachments he could not mend. He was living, breathing, thinking, but he was hardly feeling, and it made him cold and bare.

"Will he be okay?"

He said these words. He thought that at one time, he may have meant them. Now he said them out of necessity. He thought, _Yes. These are the words. This is the right way to fill the silence. These are the words to say._

Touka did not answer right away. She chewed pensively on her lower lip, her brow still furrowed as she adjusted her grip on Ayato. His head was slumped against her shoulder. His breath rattled in the silence. His blood left a sporadic trail through the winding tunnels, a hundred red droplets scattered across gray cement blocks.

She said, "He'll live."

It wasn't the most assuring thing to hear. It occurred to him that he was worried, and it was such a relief, such a grand relief to know that her words had reached him in some way.

He held his hands together. He squeezed them tight.

"And…" Mutsuki's eyes fell upon her face, her harsh, determined face. She was the rough edges, the sharp corners that new parents covered up to shield their children from harm. She was the bite of a whip as it tore through your skin. She was the downy towel the mopped up the blood. She was everything all at once and nothing at all, and Mutsuki thought he understood once and for all why Kaneki had been so enamored with her. "And what about his kagune?"

Touka's fingers clenched against the fabric of Ayato's pants, and she readjusted her grip again, hold him even closer. Mutsuki could see it in her eyes. The fear. The uncertainty. She was so overwhelmed.

This was why she'd really wanted to find Yomo. Mutsuki could tell. She was not so much older than him. She'd just wanted so desperately to have an adult there to tell her it was going to be okay. He couldn't blame her for that.

They were both just kids, after all. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! They didn't deserve this!

Mutsuki watched Touka stare into the distant tunnel. There was no end in sight.

"I don't know," she whispered.

Her words fell and dissipated. They were lost in the darkness.

Mutsuki glanced at Ayato. The boy's hair curled across his cheek, bunching up in unruly waves. His mouth was agape, labored breaths filling up their frequent silences. He had watched Ayato take a dagger, a _Scorpion_ that he recognized so quickly, so easily that it had hurt, and slash open his own back to decimate his kagune. Why had he done that?

Had he been trying to kill himself? There were easier ways to do so.

"Touka…" Mutsuki tore his eyes away from Ayato's face. "Why would Ayato… I mean… what could have possessed him to…?"

Touka exhaled sharply. It was a bitter sound.

"That investigator," she murmured.

"What?"

She looked at him, and her eyes were suddenly brimming with unshed tears. They were angry, vicious, vengeful tears. "That fucking investigator!" Her voice beat at the ceiling and the floor and echoed in this winding chamber they'd wandered down. It struck him hard. He nearly stopped walking. "It's his fault! He… he made that armor… he made our dad into armor, Mutsuki! How fucked up is that?"

Mutsuki had no answer. He couldn't relate. Dad? Armor?

 _Quinque_ , he realized. Oh. He realized he pitied these two siblings suddenly. It felt good to pity someone else.

"Ayato thought our dad just abandoned us," she hissed. "He thought… it's so much better just to think… that he just left one day… but they butchered him and made him into armor, and Ayato… he knows how quinque are made, and I guess…" Touka shook her head. She kept shaking it fiercely. "I don't know. He must have been scared. He didn't want to end up as a weapon for the doves."

Mutsuki thought there was probably a deeper explanation, but he didn't want to say so.

"And now what?" Mutsuki heard his voice, but he didn't recognize himself in it. "Once he heals… will he go back to Aogiri?"

Touka grimaced. She moved forward.

"I don't know."

It was all that could be said.

This was their existence. A series of unknowns.

Mutsuki had a thousand things he wanted to say but didn't know how.

He wanted to let Touka know the truth. That he was only alive, only walking, breathing, talking, clinging to his sanity, because of her. He had no other explanation. He felt the immensity of what had happened, he felt the weight of it, he was aware of the effects, and it all plagued him with equal intensity. But even still, he thought that he could find something good in this mess. He thought that even if he was empty, even if he was sad, even if nothing in the world seemed to be going right for him, even if he was a ghoul… even then.

He wanted to live.

He had no one to thank but Touka. Her mere presence had… had made him focus, made him remember, made him understand why he had done this in the first place. She had given him something to cling to. He had given him a reason. It hadn't been senseless torture, it had been an interrogation, and it was something she had to carry with her forever too.

"Thank you," Mutsuki told her. "Thank you for saving me."

Touka eyed him. Her gaze was quizzical, her brow perpetually furrowed.

"You don't need to thank someone for having an ounce of decency," she replied.

"No." He stopped when she stopped. They had come before a ladder. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You saved me. You… you have no idea. You don't know what you've done for me."

She stared at him. Her eyes widened.

"Mutsuki," she said, taking a step forward. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare leave."

He glanced up at the ladder. "I'll meet up with you," he said. "I promise. I just… I need to take a walk. Clear my head."

"You think I believe that bullshit?"

"It's okay," Mutsuki said. "I won't leave you. I… I don't want to be alone forever. Just for right now. Just for a little while. Can you understand that?"

Touka looked at him. She was sad— maybe even heartbroken. But she pulled herself together in a blink of an eye. "Okay," she said. "Fine. I'll see you soon."

"Okay."

"Tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Tomorrow morning. At Anteiku."

"Okay."

"Tomorrow then."

Mutsuki reached out. Just as Touka grabbed the ladder, maneuvering herself and Ayato up a step, he rested his hand at the top of her head.

"I promise," he said firmly.

She glanced down at him. Her eyes were wide.

Then, she smiled. "Don't be late."

And then she was gone. Just like that.

Mutsuki began to regret going it alone. He waited a little bit before exiting the underground. The winter air bit at his cheeks, but he hardly felt a thing. His bare feet were chapped and cold. He walked quietly through the streets. A car or two passed. Shackles jangled on his ankles. Broken chains clinked.

Freedom tasted like tears, blood, and defeat.

Kaneki was worried. Mutsuki didn't need to see him to know that. He'd thought about it for days and days on end. Kaneki would come. Kaneki would be an idiot, and he would come. And he had, of course, but not fast enough. Touka had gotten to Mutsuki first.

If Yomo hadn't spirited Mutsuki and Touka away, would Mutsuki be with Kaneki now?

He stopped. He'd cornered himself into an alley. There was a chain link wall between him and the next street. Mutsuki rested his forehead against the cool metal. The smell of rust made his brain swim. He lowered himself to his knees, and let the cold wash over him. Fresh air, free air. It tasted so good.

There was a sadness here, to being free. To being alive.

But there was a thrill as well.

He was ready to live. Maybe.

The chain links jingled. He looked up.

He couldn't find it in himself to be surprised, really.

"Did you follow me?" he whispered.

Tiny, bandaged fingers had looped through the links in the fence. This ghoul was one he recognized. Aogiri's bandaged child. He didn't know her name, but her vacant face watched him idly.

"No," she said simply. "I was in the neighborhood."

"Liar."

"Ooh," she breathed, dropping to a kneeling position so they could face each other fully. Their faces were broken up by chain links and shadows. Flimsy metal could not save him. Neither could darkness. "You've got a bite now. Did the pain do that to you?"

"Are you going to drag me back and torture me some more?" Mutsuki knew how bitter and disgusted he sounded. He was so angry at himself for daring to have hope.

"Huh?" She cocked her head. "Oh. No, I'm done with that. You had my interest for a little while, but I've got too much to do, so little time, and there are only so many people who can hold my interests. You know?"

"Not really."

"Well!" She giggled. "Lucky for you, I don't care about hurting you anymore. That's all been done with. Tell me… did it feel good? Killing him?"

Mutsuki's blood chilled as cold as the frosty metal links that separated them.

He swallowed hard.

Her laughter echoed harshly inside his brain.

"Thought so," she said. "It always does. You know, I thought it'd take you longer to snap? But I guess those pesky Kirishimas inspired something ghoulish in you."

"Shut up," he gasped, jerking away from the fence. "You don't know anything!"

"Oho," she sang, "I know you, though, don't I? Boy? Girl? Kaneki Ken? Mutsuki Tooru? Dove? Ghoul? It doesn't take an exceptionally smart person to figure that the wrong ghoul investigator was dragged into Aogiri. Personally, I thought it was funny."

Mutsuki found himself sitting with his hands clapped against the dirty road, his eyes wide and his heart hammering in his chest. He… he was so angry… he wished he could rip those bandages right off her goddamn face and make her eat them!

"You… you…" He held his forehead faintly. "You—!"

"All that aside," she said, lacing her fingers through the chain links and leaning forward. "I want to know. How did you come to exist if you're not Kaneki Ken?"

"You're smart," Mutsuki said thickly, his mouth dry. "Figure it out."

"Sure." The bandaged ghoul shrugged. "I thought I'd ask first, though. Before I did anything drastic."

"If you're not going to kill me or kidnap me again," Mutsuki said, pushing himself to his feet, "we're done here. Goodbye."

"Bye bye!" She waved at him enthusiastically. "Say hi to Touka for me!"

Mutsuki paused. He took a deep breath. The cold air knifed through his lungs.

He turned back and walked to the fence.

"Ah." She sat with her legs crossed and stared up at him from the other side of the fence. "What's this? Love?"

It was an incorrect and obvious assumption. Mutsuki tried to imagine being in love, and that was hard. He tried to imagine being in love with Touka. That wasn't so hard. He thought life might be easier if he fell in love with her. At least something might make him happy. But it was a dream and nothing more. Whatever feelings he held for her were platonic, which was sad.

"What do you want?" he asked. "She's one of you. Are you going to punish her for freeing me?"

"No, I don't really care about that."

"Then what do you want?"

"Just curious." She dragged herself to her feet. She was so shockingly small. Mutsuki looked away. "I was looking for her. I found you. Should I be worried about Ayato? I saw that nasty fight with the doves. Poor boy!"

Mutsuki allowed himself some slight relief. She didn't follow them directly, so she didn't fully suspect Touka. But still, this was all becoming incredibly sketchy. This tiny ghoul seemed to know too much.

"If you're capable of concern," Mutsuki told her coldly, "then worry to your heart's content."

And with that, he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gestamen, gestamenis.  
> load, pack, burden.


	32. aurigena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> failed ap ghoul biology with this one, but it's not like the manga is exactly clear on how ghouls work, so idgaf. i like my interpretations, so they're staying with this fic.
> 
> anyway!! i love this chapter ha ha.. it's one of my favorites.

The weight of him made her sink. It was as if a hundred years had passed between this day, and the day they had trudged back to Anteiku with Ayato's broken, bloody leg, or that day he'd fallen asleep on a bench, or that day their father hadn't come home. It was as if he had swallowed a bag full of gold bricks, absorbing their weight and value. It was as if she was carrying her own weight or more through kilometers of space without complaint.

Letting Mutsuki go… it was not a hard choice. She had no control over him, and she felt sure now in fate's design for her. She was living in a mosaic where every portrait was fluid and colorful and she… she was static and immobile. Nothing seemed to stick with her. If life was an art piece, then there was no focal point. Just aimless wanderings. She was aimless too.

It didn't mean she wasn't worried, of course. She was terrified that Mutsuki was going off alone, and that he'd just disappear altogether. She didn't know how to help him. She didn't even know if his RC levels were so high that he was truly a half ghoul. She only assumed. They'd both assumed.

Assumptions were probably not the greatest of things.

She held Ayato's one leg as she ascended the ladder, her arms reaching, grasping, using up the whole of her strength to pull them both to safety. She dragged him up out of the hatch, his blood staining the front of her shirt as she wrapped her arms around his middle and lifted him into the safety of Anteiku's lower level. She held him there for a moment or so, breathing in the earthy scent of his hair.

He was two years younger than her, give or take, and he'd always been the gentler one. Until recently, at least. He was the one who was afraid of bugs, and he was the one had cried when he'd first killed someone, and he was the one who had needed to be held when the nightmares came, and he was the one who had believed in spite of everything that their father had been alive.

It was unfair that things had turned out like this.

She slammed the hatch shut and lifted him back up onto her back. She climbed the stairs with little effort, holding his legs close to her sides and listening to his shallow breaths. He was alive. Wasn't that all that mattered? She should just be thankful to have that much.

This was all her fault.

Somebody had to think it. Right?

 _This is all my fault_ , she thought. There was no self-pitying, no confusion, no fear. Simply the dull amazement of one particular fact and a whole swarm of crushing guilt falling upon her all at once.

Nobody would name names, nobody would point fingers. _It was nobody's fault_ , they'd say. Ha. The blame game took too much time and always remained inconclusive. But she'd know. She'd remember. She would never let herself forget what had happened here.

Touka shouldered open the door. The bitter remnants of a day's worth of brew hit her hard. It was a jolt to her senses, every single one suddenly heightened and yet stunned. She stood uselessly, numbed and hypnotized, high on nostalgia and heartache.

She took a deep breath. The taste of coffee hit the back of her throat. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Determined not to cry, she marched forward and detached her brother from her back, settling him in a chair. He slumped right against the counter top, his body _thunking_ heavily. A soft groan drifted through the silence.

She watched, standing in the dark café and feeling the shadows warp around her. She was one of them, a simple silhouette in the quiet night. When her shoulders sagged and her feet dragged, she realized she continued to feel Ayato's weight against her back even after she'd set him down. It was phantom weight like phantom pains, ghosting her path, scarring her mind.

So be it.

She took a deep breath and started toward the door to the apartments upstairs.

Before her hand could reach the doorknob, it opened. She jerked back, her whole body curling defensively with her forearm raised close to her face as a shield. Through the shadows, a figure emerged. The scent of coffee grinds, even more palpable than the very air she breathed, brought her to her senses.

"Manager," she choked out. Her voice was a rasp, a breath, a broken whisper. She blinked, lowering her arm but keeping her hand elevated, her fingers grazing her lips. She stepped back. She blinked.

Yoshimura's eyes were watery and dull in the dim room. Nothing shifted the shadows but slim particles of light that slipped in through the shades from the street. With some degree of caution, Yoshimura raised his finger to the light switch, and let the shadows die.

Touka was momentarily blinded, the burst of light splashing into her eyes and causing her to flinch. Ayato moaned from his place at the countertop, his body limp and his breaths rattling. Yoshimura's thin, watery gaze trailed from Touka's sweaty face to Ayato's broken body. He was not a man of many expressions. He had a smile and he had a frown. That was all.

For the first time, Touka saw his face become like paper. Frail, pale, and fraying from wear. His eyes lingered on Ayato for no more than a few seconds before his whole body seemed to lower itself in some kind of submission. As though this man had not realized that he had so much left to grieve for.

"I…" Touka heard her voice, but it sounded so different from her. She sounded lost, confused, and breathless. The heightened pitch dizzied her. It was a child's voice that fell from her mouth. Begging, pleading, wishing for something different. She should know better. "I didn't… know where else to go… I…"

Yoshimura's hand caught her gently by the shoulder. Then it raised to her cheek.

"Never regret coming home," he told her firmly.

Suddenly it was very hard to see him, and she turned away, hand to her nose, stifling sniffles. The silence took over then, wrapping around her snuggly and reaffirming Yoshimura's words. Yes. She was home. She felt it in her bones. It seemed so simple to just be here, to stand where she'd stood a thousand times and feel that everything's changed.

"Can…" Touka, whose voice still waned and whined like a child's, hastily swiped at her eyes, her bloody fingers dashing at the crease between the hollow of her skull and the bridge of her nose. "Can you check…? Check if he's okay?"

Yoshimura had gotten a little closer, but he was still a careful distance away. His old eyes watched her for a long time. The weight of his gaze was almost too much.

"Certainly," the old man said, betraying nothing of his thoughts.

He walked toward Ayato taking a look at his back and letting out a very quiet sigh. Touka stiffened. She rushed to Yoshimura's side, hopping up onto the stool beside Ayato, and searched the man's face anxiously.

"What?" she gasped, leaning forward. "What is it? Is he going to be okay?"

"I'm sorry, Touka," Yoshimura said gravely. "I cannot possibly tell if these wounds will heal properly."

"But he'll _live_ ," she said breathlessly, tears in her eyes, "right?"

Yoshimura blinked. His expression softened, and she thought his papery skin might just tear in half as it loosened. "He'll live," he said. "His kagune, however…"

Touka swallowed hard. Yes, yes, yes. She knew. She knew all too well the consequences of tampering with a kakuhou. If the damage was sufficient enough— well, the whole thing was pretty much useless by that point. Permanent damage was a rare occurrence for ghouls, but it was possible to inflict. It was why her right wing was so stunted.

"May I ask what happened?" Yoshimura had slipped behind the counter, bending down toward a shelf and retrieving a first aid kit.

Touka sighed, dragging a hand down her face. She found her cheeks to be slightly damp, so she covered her eyes. "Where to begin…" she muttered. "Um… well, I did what I went there to do. It was a success, and the CCG came. But… Ayato…"

"He got caught in the crossfire." Yoshimura's eyes were on his hands as he retrieved a roll of gauze and an absorbent cloth. "I was afraid something like this would happen."

"This is why I went in the first place!" Touka slammed her palm against the counter, the slap reverberating up her arm. "I only did this to save him! How did I mess that up? All I wanted was to—!"

Ayato stirred. She clamped her mouth shut. His fingers raised shakily to his head.

"Sis…" he hissed. "Quit shouting…"

Her eyes widened. "Sorry!" she blurted, her voice breaking minutely. Yoshimura eyed her quizzically, and she gasped, shrinking into her seat. She lowered her voice to a softer pitch. "Sorry…"

"Mm…" Ayato tried to straighten up. He felt back against the counter with a short, agonized cry. Touka watched in mute horror as his fingernails, raw and bloody, twitched against the countertop.

"Shh," Touka gasped, reaching out and snatching his hands. "Shh! It's okay! It's okay."

His breathing came out in uneven pants. He rested his head against her arm, and said nothing more.

Yoshimura set the gauze and the cloth on the counter. He watched Ayato until the boy slowly raised his head, his expression bemused.

"This pain will fade," Yoshimura said. "It may leave scars. It may weigh on your mind. It may change you. But this will fade, Ayato. I promise you that."

Ayato stiffened. She thought that maybe he might yell at Yoshimura, become angry, spit words that meant all too much and nothing at all simultaneously. But instead, with a great anticlimactic lethargy, his head fell again onto Touka's arm. He avoided Yoshimura's gaze and stared vacantly at a wall.

Touka's throat felt tight. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do.

They were subjected to another bout of silence.

She felt like she'd imagined her return a thousand times over, with no real heart to it. She'd thought about it like one fantasizes about anything. It just hadn't seemed real. But now she was sitting in Anteiku, and all those daydreams that had plagued her seemed infinitely more possible than this awful scenario.

"There were others." Yoshimura's voice caught her off guard. She jumped a little, her arm jerking out from beneath Ayato's cheek. His head thunked against the counter.

Touka sat for a moment trying to figure out where her voice had gone. Yoshimura's tired, watery eyes searched her face.

"Are they dead?"

"No." Touka swallowed, and she looked away sharply. "I… I decided to leave them."

The silence that followed was more uncomfortable than all the silences they'd suffered through put together.

Yoshimura sighed. "I see," he said.

Touka's fingers clenched into fists. Her voice sliced against her throat when she spoke. "I didn't _want_ to," she gasped. "I—! I was going to go back for them. Find them. But Mutsuki said—!"

"Mutsuki." Yoshimura's eyes had brightened in his curiosity. "The ghoul the CCG created?"

"Yes." Touka frowned. She didn't like the way he'd put that. "But he's not like any dove I've ever met. He's— he's kind, and he wants to help us, and he… he was tortured. By me. He was willing to take on so much pain just for my sake, and I…" Touka cut herself off upon hearing her voice break pitifully.

"Touka." Yoshimura's hand grazed the top of her head. She slumped. "You've done what you had to. You knew what this job would call for when you took it. Ghoul organizations are rarely built out of kindness."

"Yes," she agreed dully.

"What matters is that this boy, Mutsuki, has been freed." Yoshimura glanced around the café quickly. "Though he is not here, I see."

"N-no. No, sir." She lowered her head. "He told me he… he wanted some time to himself to think."

"Ah."

"Should I have not let him go?" Touka looked up at the man beseechingly. She wanted to know if anything she'd done up to this point had been right. "I was scared. I still am. I'm scared that he won't come back."

"You say he was tortured?" Yoshimura shook his head. "It's difficult to say what he might be feeling right now. What matters is that you and your brother are alive. You are safe."

"But for how long?" Touka dragged her shaky, bloody fingers through her hair. They got stuck there. "I doubt Aogiri's been crushed for good, and not only that, but I have to deal with the doves too. I've messed up my entire life. I can't go back to school, it'd be too suspicious! I'll never be able to face Yoriko again. I can't work here anymore. Hinami doesn't need me. Essentially… I might as well not even exist."

"Don't say such awful things."

 _But it's true_ , she thought glumly. _The future I've made for myself, it only reached this point. I've lost everything to a dream that I couldn't follow through with. To think I could protect Ayato. To think I could protect Mutsuki. I've thrown everything away, and I've got nothing to show for it but the blood on my hands and the scars on my brother's back._

"Why did Yomo and Nishiki come?" she asked suddenly. Yoshimura bowed his head. She understood that it had been for her, but there shouldn't have been any urgency. She wasn't the one who'd been captured and tortured. And Mutsuki meant nothing to them. So why?

"I suppose all of us were concerned about the doves." He tapped the counter idly, and he smiled down at her. "Touka, don't think us so foolish that we'd put your life in jeopardy and not rectify that. No one here wants to see you die."

"But I made that choice," she said, "I knew what I was signing up for!"

"I trust Kaneki," Yoshimura said calmly, "but only to an extent. I do not believe that if you were caught, he could save you. He is only one man. And you are only a ghoul."

Touka's eyes and face burned. She didn't know if it was humiliation or anger or unparalleled sadness that had come over her, but she had a feeling it was something akin to all three.

"What happened here," Yoshimura continued, "was a tragedy. But no one died, as far as we are both aware. Now is the time to rest and regather ourselves. There will be more fights, each more grueling than the last. But you will do fine, Touka. You are a particular kind of person who, no matter the obstacle, no matter the odds, cannot be broken. Your spirit is too strong. So you will go through life as you always have. You will fight."

"But will I _win_?"

Yoshimura offered her a small smile. "You've never cared about that before."

She heard these words, and the truth in them rung in her ears like the wail of vertigo. She sat and mulled over this, facts pouring into her mind and leaving her restless and numb. That was true. Winning fights had never been her objective. It's the fight itself— the cause. The adrenaline and the validation of knowing you were in the right, defending yourself, your actions, your people.

"I'm going to take Ayato upstairs," she said quietly, reaching over and brushing her brother's shoulder. He stiffened. "Can you please come get me if… _when_ the others come back?"

"Of course."

She gingerly pulled Ayato from the chair. He tried to gather himself onto his feet, but his legs gave way almost immediately, and he fell into her arms with a quiet moan. Whatever energy he had, he used to keep himself conscious. She lifted him onto her back with no objections, pocketing the gauze and the cloth and heading for the stairs. Yoshimura held the door open and followed her until they reached her apartment. Then, quietly, he unlocked her door for her.

It felt like an insult, being locked out of her own apartment.

"Will you be alright?" Yoshimura asked her carefully. She stood, stunted beneath the weight of Ayato's body against her shoulders, and she stared at her half open door stubbornly.

"Yes," she said. She saw a flicker of doubt flutter through his eyes, and she felt guilty. Like a liar. "No." Her voice was distant and unsure. She found herself holding onto Ayato for dear life. "I don't know."

Yoshimura closed his eyes. He nodded slowly. "Fair enough," he said. "Rest well. If you need anything— any help, or someone to watch Hinami—"

"Hinami," Touka muttered, shrinking a bit as the revelation hit her. Yes, Hinami. Of course, Hinami! She would be here.

Well. Hinami was smart. She was kind and resilient. If anything, she would be a great help.

"Should I wake her?" Yoshimura did not look keen on doing so, and Touka did not blame him. "It might be best to separate her and Ayato. For now."

"Please," Touka scoffed, shouldering past the man and marching into her apartment. "Hinami is a good girl, and Ayato's in no shape to do any harm."

"That may be true," Yoshimura said, "but your return is something she's been anticipating for a while now. She's only just beginning to heal from the wounds of the past, and this might stir some old fears within her."

"She's stronger than you think she is," Touka said firmly. She did not look at him when she kicked the door shut.

Touka brought Ayato over to a couch, gingerly setting him down. He curled up against the cool vinyl, his hair covering his face. Touka stood before him with shaky knees and an open mouth. Moonlight pooled in through the window. The shades were drawn. The living room was clean. It still smelled so much like home.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Ayato exhaled sharply in response. He rose his head, his pallid face gleaming in the dark. Sweat caused trails of his wispy hair to stick to his cheeks and forehead. He shook like a leaf in November.

"It's…" His voice, which was distant and waning, seemed to break even as he spoke. He paused to consider his words. For a moment she thought he was going to tell her " _it's alright_." But he didn't. "It's… cold."

"Oh." Touka quickly wiped at her nose, sniffing as she glanced around the living room. "Right. You're right. I wonder if Hinami even has the heat on…"

Touka searched the other couch, and then a basket beside it for a blanket. Ayato's small voice floated to her ears.

"H-Hinami…?"

Touka knelt down beside the basket. "A girl who lives here." She pulled a large fleece comforter from the basket, knocking over two pillows and a jar full plastic clovers. "She's… she's nice. Don't be mean to her."

Ayato was silent. He didn't even look at her. So she stood, the blanket slung over her arms, and she waited for him to make a joke of it. But the silence merely stretched on, and he sunk deeper against the couch. His eyelids drooped. He was going to fall asleep.

She had a terrible thought. That if he slept now, he wouldn't wake up again.

It was foolish of her. Ghouls did heal, even from wounds like this. Even if Ayato never used his kagune again, that didn't mean he was going to die from this wound.

But still. She was scared.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up?" Touka offered, tossing the blanket aside. Ayato moaned softly in response. He curled further into the old sofa, baring his back to her. It was an ugly sight, those great lashes that dug deep into his muscle and had decimated his kakuhou completely. She really tried to think optimistically. Even damaged kakuhou could heal, right?

But Ayato had quite literally just ripped his kakuhou out. The wound would seal, and even if he regrew his kakuhou it'd be closed off. Unreachable. This happened sometimes. Damaged kakuhou producing damaged kagunes. One of her wings, in fact, was the result of this.

Proof that ghouls were not entirely untouchable.

"Come on." Touka marched over to him. "When was the last time you had a nice warm bath? Bathrooms at Aogiri were pretty shitty. But here you can just soak in the hot water forever."

Ayato's expression twitched a bit. She saw his lips turn in, his teeth catching on them and chewing thoughtfully.

He attempted to push himself upright. He scooted to the edge of the couch. When he nearly pushed himself to his feet, he fell back and cried out in pain. Touka rushed to his side.

"I…" Ayato turned his face away. "It… it hurts."

"I'm sure you've been in worse pain before." Touka didn't know if she believed that, but she felt like it was something he needed to hear.

"I can't walk."

"So you want me to carry you, then?"

"No!" Ayato's voice shuddered. It was thick with unshed tears. "No… no more. Just… help me up. Help me to the bathroom."

Touka felt the barest of smiles grace her lips as she slung his arm around her shoulder. His entire weight pressed against her as she dragged him toward the bathroom. He was slumped, his feet weighed against the floor as she wrapped her arms around his middle and guided him forward. Blood sank into the cloth of her shirt, and she thought she must be red from head to toe at this rate. Red with Mutsuki's blood, red with Ayato's blood, but where was her blood?

They had both bled so much, and she had not a drop to spare.

She rested him against a wall beside the tub before flicking on a light. He sat, slumped, staring dully ahead of him. Touka bent to run the water into the tub, her fingers drifting under the tap and waiting for it to grow warm. Ayato's head drooped.

Silence. Silence, and the distant splash of water against the porcelain tub. She didn't even hear that. Her heart was beating in her head, and her head was beating like a drum, and that drum was calling her to war.

She sat down on the floor facing him. She pulled her knees up to her mouth and closed her eyes.

Water filled up the tub like guilt rising up from the pit of her stomach to the crown of her head.

"Do you want me to tell you it wasn't your fault?"

Touka raised her head tentatively. Ayato's voice was thin and faint, hardly rising above a whisper. His eyes were glazed and his face was ghostly. He was slumped against the wall with all his limps completely limp. His knuckles rested against the tile, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He didn't even have the strength to glance at her. He just watched the wall ahead of him with a hollow gaze and parted lips.

"Are you going to tell me to screw myself?" she responded softly. "That of course it's my fault? Of course it is."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"You were thinking it."

Ayato didn't respond. There were no words, perhaps, for what he was thinking. For what he was feeling. She understood, and she didn't want to pry. It all was just so incredibly draining. Knowing you were responsible, even if it was only really partially, knowing that the future was more hazy and uncertain than ever. Knowing that life was not going to get any easier.

Knowing that her quest to protect her brother had left him possibly handicapped.

She wanted to apologize to him simply for existing. That was the kind of state she was in right now.

Ayato managed to undress himself, albeit very slowly, until he got to his shirt. Touka unceremoniously tore it, and delicately pried it from his open wound. Ayato still hissed, of course, rigid from the pain and curling away from her touch. She held his tattered shirt in her hands, staring at the wounds that drew down his back and wondering if there was anything that could be said here to fill this loathsome silence.

There was not. She gripped the shirt tighter. She forced herself to look away from his the damage that had been done.

They sat on the cold bathroom floor and reflected on the severity of their sins.

He didn't shrink away from her when she helped him into the tub, as she had expected. He didn't say a word, in fact, even went the hot water licked at his wounds and caused him to buckle from pain. It tainted the water within minutes, turning it faintly pink. He brought his knees to his chest, water splashing softly against the walls of the tub.

All he was now was the protrusions of bones beneath papery skin, damp hair slithering like ink stains upon his cheek and nape, and the twin gaping scars that opened his back up for the whole world to see.

Touka took the cloth that Yoshimura had given her and dunked it into the water. She rested a hand on his shoulder before gingerly applying it to one of the wounds.

He buckled, a shout falling from his lips and burying itself into his knees as he shoved his lips against his bony kneecaps. Water lapped at the edge of the tub. Touka watched water clinger to her fingers, splitting clear paths through blood caked palms. She couldn't decide what was worse. Focusing on the amount of blood she was mopping up from her brother's back, or realizing how she was swimming in blood.

She'd tracked it in from the underground. She left streaks of it across the tile. She was a walking massacre.

The silence was filled with nothing but the patter of water dripping from the wet cloth and Ayato's ragged breaths. He was no doubt as caught up in his own mind as she was.

That was dangerous.

There was nothing more dangerous than thinking too much.

"I'll make this up to you," she said.

He said nothing. The more she cleaned the wound, the less serious it seemed. The more she cleaned the wound, the less she could understand why he was so weak. It was deep, surely, and ugly. It was even possibly damaged beyond repair. But that didn't mean he couldn't walk. Couldn't pick himself up. Couldn't speak.

Touka feared what this had done to her brother's head. She feared his thoughts, as she could not understand them, and she finally understood that she never would.

"I'll do anything," she continued. The rag was damp and red in her fist. It bit into her palm as she glided it over his spine and swept the dried flakes of blood away. What remained was simply two unholy craters sliced deep into the back of his shoulders. "I'll do whatever you want. You can call me names, tell me I'm stupid, beat me up, throw me away again. I don't care. I'll do anything, Ayato, if that'll make you happy."

She felt the sting of the silence that followed as she stilled her hand and let the rag rest upon his arched spine. Ayato did nothing but further bury his face into his knees.

"It'll get better," she said, her voice wavering. Her throat felt tight. She hated it. She hated the sound of her own voice as it scratched pitifully at the tall, frigid walls of the bleakly white bathroom. "It'll be better. Wait. Just wait. You'll see."

She wasn't helping. She knew that. She lifted the cloth from his back and set it aside. She needed to find a towel for him. So she stood up.

Suddenly the water was crashing like tidal waves against porcelain, splashing against her thigh and causing her shirt to cling to her stomach as a slippery hand shot out and snatched her by the wrist. She faltered.

Ayato's fingernails bit holes into her skin and ate away at her veins. His head had shot up, his eyes wild and blank, frozen upon her face and utterly desperate. He looked like a rabbit caught in a trap.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Touka knelt silently at the edge of the tub, holding her brother's gaze and gently placing her hand over his. His knuckles were white against her wrist. She could feel how tense he was.

 _Don't leave me_. It was all that his eyes said.

She squeezed his hand. She scooted closer, resting her arms against the ledge of the tub and pressing her mouth against them. Ayato still held her wrist, and she still held his hand.

 _Never._ It was all that she could convey.

Without words, what was she but hands and eyes?

A punch? A glare?

A reassuring squeeze? A forlorn stare?

Neither of them cried. Not then. That moment was reserved for the communication that had never had the heart to say out loud. It was possible she'd never been allowed this gentle moment before. That Ayato had been too bitter or too proud to allow her such a piece of him. But now, Ayato was too tired to be bitter and too humbled to be proud.

There was something. A tale on the tip of her tongue. You read those things, or you hear about them, one way or another when in school. A tale of wings of wax and arrogance. What was it?

Touka raised her head as the padding of soft, small feet resurrected her from her reverie. Ayato's hollow eyes met hers.

Right.

Hubris. That was what it was called.

Hubris and Icarus. Humility and Daedalus.

A joke. A jest.

Was this real? Had all of this really happened?

"Touka?" A small voice rang like the jolt of a thunderclap through the bathroom. Touka's head snapped toward the direction of the door in a startled daze.

"Hinami," she said breathlessly.

At the door, wearing one of Touka's old oversized tee shirts as a night dress, Hinami stood. Her black hair was floating in soft little wisps around her head and across her forehead and against her cheeks. Her eyes were big and glowing in the terrible rawness of the white bathroom light, reflections of the white tile and the white walls beating against amber irises. There was horror in her gaze, but also a tinge of curiosity as it flickered from Touka's bloody face and clothes to Ayato's scrawny naked body.

For a moment, Touka didn't really get how this could be a bad thing. Maybe it was because Ayato was too shocked or shameless to care.

"Hinami!" Touka stuck herself in front of Ayato, trying her best to shield him from view. "Hinami— out! Go downstairs and ask the manager for some coffee!"

"But, big sis, it's four in the morning…"

Touka exhaled. She wrenched her hand from Ayato's noting how his fingers reached after her and lingered in the air sadly as she stood up.

"Go on," Touka said, ushering Hinami out of the room. "Downstairs. Off you go."

"Okay…" Hinami didn't sound particularly happy about it. "Is— is something wrong? Can I help?"

"It's…" Touka threw a glance back at Ayato who had sank into the water to the point where only the hollow pits of his eyes and his dark hair were visible. "It's nothing you should feel responsible for. Please, Hina."

"Okay." Hinami stood briefly resolute. As though she really had no intention of leaving. But then, to Touka's immense surprise and joy, Hinami flung her arms around Touka and squeezed her tight. Her mouth moved and words vibrated against Touka's ribs. "Welcome back."

Touka felt tears on her cheeks before she had even realized she had been ready to cry. It took a lot just to raise a hand to wipe the tears away swiftly.

"H-hey." Touka laughed weakly, setting a shaky hand on Hinami's head. "None of that. I'm gonna get you all dirty."

"I don't care," Hinami declared.

Touka closed her eyes. Being hugged, being loved, being home. Feeling that sense of belonging that she had lacked for weeks and weeks on end. It was overwhelming. She was overjoyed. Was this real? She thought she might wake up on the cold floor of one of the warehouses any minute.

Hinami broke away first, sneaking one last peek at Ayato before disappearing out the door. Touka stood dazedly and watched after her. She continued to stand and stare long after Hinami had gone.

"Who was that?"

Ayato's quiet voice cracked pitifully. Touka turned to glance at him.

"She lives here." Touka went back to his side. This time she snatched a towel from a rack and brought it with her.

"Why?"

"Why not?" Touka frowned at him. Then she smiled coyly. "Are you jealous?"

"No," Ayato said wanly, "just confused."

There were no jokes now. No banter. No quips. No fun.

Touka sighed. She pushed her bangs out of her eye. "Hinami and her mom were regulars here," she explained. Her heart wasn't in her words, so everything she said sounded hollow. "Long story short, her mom died. I took in Hinami."

"You have a bad habit," Ayato muttered.

"What?"

"Taking in strays." He closed his eyes. "Bad habit."

"Depends on who you ask," Touka said heatedly, her face growing warm. _There is nothing wrong with being kind_ , she told herself.

Ayato had no response, or if he did he chose not to say it.

Eventually, he allowed her to drain the tub and wrap the towel around him. It was without words, without any significant motions. They spoke only in looks. It seemed to be the only way they could properly communicate right now.

She led him from the bathroom and back to their old room. He stood in the doorway mutely, towel bundled tightly around his shoulders and falling to around his middle thigh. He dripped faintly pink beads against the old wooden floor. His hair curled around his cheeks drearily, his mouth disappearing into the downy folds of the towel. He watched her dully as she flicked on her desk lamp and dropped to her knees beside Hinami's bed.

"Oh," she said flatly when she pulled out a dusty box and flipped it open. She plucked one of Ayato's old tee shirts from the hastily folded pile. It looked like it would barely fit Hinami.

A wave of fresh sadness fell upon her. She glanced between the scrawny tee shirt and the bony boy in the doorway. It seemed impossible to imagine him ever wearing something so bright and alive. He was a skeleton. She was a ghost. They were monsters living in an attic. They were remnants of something that had once thrived here.

"Never mind that," she muttered, tossing the shirt back into the box and kicking it under the bed. She dragged herself to her feet and went to her dresser, throwing open drawer after drawer. She knew she had clothes that would fit him. It was just a matter of finding them.

"Aha!" Touka cried triumphantly, tearing a pair of baggy sweatpants with an elastic waistband. She tossed them at him.

They bounced right off the vague outline of Ayato's arms, intertwined against his chest. His eyes followed it from where it hit him to the floor. He stared at it mutely. Then he shot Touka a look. It was short and expectant.

She realized. _Do you expect me to go commando?_ That was what he was insinuating.

Touka pressed her lips together thinly. Was it really that big a deal? Then again, she had no real experience with boys since Ayato left. He'd been prepubescent then. Now it probably actually mattered to him.

She pulled a pair of boxer shorts from her bra drawer. She tested the elastic to see if they would stretch enough to fit him. Then she threw them at his feet. Once more he stared at them.

"Why do you have these?" he asked suddenly, crouching to pick them up.

Touka blinked. She almost wanted to laugh at the confusion and disbelief in his voice.

"My ex-boyfriend, obviously." Touka rolled her eyes. Ayato made a noise, something between a scoff and a gag. "Don't get too defensive now. You know you're the only boy in my life."

"Gross." He pinched the boxer shorts with his thumb and forefinger.

"It was a joke." Touka sat on her knees, blinking ahead of her in shock. He'd really thought…? Ah, well, whatever. They hadn't seen each other in two years. She couldn't blame him for falling for such a dumb joke. "I don't have a boyfriend. Never have."

Ayato shot her a look. _Did I ask?_ That was what the look seemed to imply. It also could've meant. _Shut up. Too much information_. Or maybe, _Color me surprised_. Either way, she knew what he meant. She smiled a little to herself.

"Those are mine," she continued. "I wear them to bed sometimes. Boys have comfy clothes."

"I know that."

"Well. Now you know why I have them." Touka waited patiently for him to dress himself. It took a little while. His movements were agonizingly slow, and he winced every so often. Eventually, though, he shed the towel and stood in a pair of sweat pants that seemed to fit him fine. It was nice that they were about the same height.

"Come here." She snatched the gauze Yoshimura had given her and patted the ground beside her. Ayato slowly obliged. He sat solemnly, his head drooping, his eyes lowered toward the floor. Touka didn't think she could say anything to make him feel better. So she just took the gauze and pressed it to his chest. "Hold."

He held it while she unraveled it around his chest and over his wounds. She tried to be delicate about it.

That was hard. _Delicate_ wasn't in her nature.

He only flinched a little bit though.

She stuck a pin or two where she needed to, and Ayato sat, the bandage wrapped firmly around his abdomen. He looked miserable. She couldn't blame him. She couldn't imagine what she looked like right now.

They sat in silence once more. The room was semi-saturated from the yellow light creeping against the shadows from her lamp. It made him look smaller than he was.

Truth be told, she didn't know how much time passed between her pinning his bandages and the next word spoken. It didn't feel quite so agonizing as one might expect. Their silences were filled with a quiet understanding. They knew. They had an inkling of how immensely the other was suffering, and how so, but they recognized their fault in it.

That was it. They were both at fault.

Touka had not forced Ayato's hand. She had not made him cut out his own kagune. Likewise, she had betrayed him, and it was likely none of this would have happened if she had never gone to Aogiri in the first place. But who was to say? She didn't know if things would have turned out differently if it had been, say, Nishiki in her place. If it had been, say, Tsukiyama. In fact, in another life, in another world, this very same thing might have happened, and no one would have been around to save Ayato.

Was that not the reason why she'd done it in the first place?

For Ayato, or for nothing at all.

"She took my bed."

Touka raised her eyes to his bemusedly. She realized he was looking at Hinami's bed, his expression shadowy and difficult to read.

"You can have mine," she said.

"You gave my bed away."

Ah. _There_ it was. An accusation.

She listened to her jaw clench in irritation. She couldn't win, could she?

"You left," she said simply. "It was an empty bed. What was there to give?"

Ayato's shoulders rose a bit as though her words had somehow struck him. He pulled his legs up to his chest, and didn't say another word about Hinami or the bed.

Of course she felt guilty. She didn't want him to be any sadder than he was already. They both knew what was almost definitely true. He'd done what he had done with the intent to destroy his kakuhou. She saw the damage. She knew. He knew.

He had been successful.

"You should sleep," she suggested. He didn't answer. So she reached out. He didn't flinch or scoot away from her as she might have expected, but instead leaned into her touch. She gingerly pulled him up to his feet and led him to her bed. "There. Just lie down. No, stupid, not on your back, don't look at me like that. Just— yes. There, on your side. Are you being difficult just to spite me?"

Ayato scoffed into her pillow. He watched her dully, his body sinking into her puffy blue comforter. The fabric shifted as he curled up instinctively.

"Where will you sleep?" he asked quietly.

"I'll be fine."

Ayato's brow pinched together. He was unconvinced.

"Here." She reached out and took his hand. "I'm going to sleep right here."

His eyes were heavily lidded. They were dark, and they lingered on his hand in hers for a long time. His expression tightened. In the dim yellow light, beneath the greyish peels of his eyelids, his eyes glittered like black stones.

"Promise," he whispered.

"I'm right here."

"Promise."

"I'm not going to leave."

" _Promise_."

Touka grasped his hand in both of hers. Her thumb glided over the cool protrusions of his knuckles. She felt it in her throat, the shock and the dismay that he was so scared and lost right now. That he didn't know what to do. That she was the only thing weighing him to earth.

He scooted aside when she sat down on the edge of the bed. And then, still holding his hand, she laid down beside him. She was on her back, watching a ceiling that she had memorized from many sleepless nights of counting shadows and memorizing creases. Then she turned onto her side. He was close enough that his breath hit her face while her cheek sunk into the pillow. Their hair, the same inky shade, melted together.

"I promise," she whispered. "Everything I do, I do for you."

His eyes were already closed.

* * *

It was not every morning that you woke up to find a naked boy in the tub. This was probably some sort of accomplishment. She would very much like to mark this day down as the first interesting thing to happen to her in years. Well, the first interesting thing that wasn't inherently morbid.

Hinami sat quietly at the bar, sipping at the coffee Mr. Yoshimura had made for her. Her bare feet dug into one of the supporting beams of the metal chair, icy steel biting into her skin. She was cold and she was tired and she was so very confused.

Of course she'd known about that Aogiri thing. Hide had explained everything to her, and she'd seen Yomo, Nishiki, and Tsukiyama off. She'd hugged Nishiki and wished him luck while shying away from Tsukiyama and smiling at Yomo. However, she had not expected Touka to return. Especially not with her brother.

A pang of jealousy caught hold of her chest. It was cold. She grasped the cup of coffee with both hands and tipped it back. It was scalding as it lapped down her throat and burned through her chest.

"I don't want to go back up there," Hinami admitted when she finished her coffee.

Yoshimura glanced at her curiously. "And why is that?"

He had such a grandfatherly touch about him. She didn't really have a grandfather, not that she knew of, but if she did, she'd imagine him to be quite like Mr. Yoshimura.

She plucked at the hem of Touka's ratty old tee shirt self-consciously.

"I'd be intruding," she mumbled, lowering her head. "They… I'm not family. I—"

"Don't say that, Hinami." Yoshimura sighed, and he extended his hand to gently pat her on the head. "Touka loves you. She considers you family as much as Ayato. Right now, it's just difficult. He's injured, and she doesn't want you watching."

"I've seen worse," Hinami muttered.

"Perhaps," Yoshimura agreed. She didn't miss the hint of sadness that was buried beneath his crisp, quiet tone. "However, keep in mind that Ayato is not much older than you. How would you like a stranger staring at you while you suffered?"

Hinami's eyes flashed wide, and her face grew so warm all of a sudden that she was dizzy. "What?" she gasped. "No, I wouldn't—! That wasn't what it—!"

Yoshimura waited patiently for his words to really settle. Hinami sat back, pressing a shaky hand to her lips.

"Oh no," she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut. "Do… do you think he hates me? He must hate me."

"Ayato is a difficult little creature." Yoshimura chuckled, most likely to himself. He shook his head, and he shot her a pleasant smile. "There is no use worrying about it. That boy tries his best to hate just about everyone."

Hinami caught her lips behind her hand and furiously chewed on them. _That doesn't make me feel better,_ she thought bitterly.

She decided, with a great burst of inspiration, that there was only one thing to do.

 _I won't let myself hate him_ , she decided, lowering her hand into her lap. _He's big sister's brother. I love Touka. So I'll love him too_.

Yes. That was perfect. If this boy knew nothing but hate, then she would show nothing but love. Out of spite.

Poetic! Right? She hoped so. She knew nothing of poetry.

Just then, the back door burst open. A few men staggered in— well, Nishiki staggered in. He collapsed in a booth. Yomo merely walked up to the counter while Tsukiyama smoothed his hair back irritably before noticing Hinami and beaming.

"Hina!" He strode up to her, tossing his hair from his eye and winking. He had dirt on his face and blood on his pants. Otherwise he seemed fine. It was reassuring. They all seemed fine. "Excitement kept you up, eh? Yes, I thought as much. Who could sleep, with all this worry?"

"Um…" Hinami smiled at Tsukiyama kindly. She didn't want to admit that she'd slept quite soundly. Yomo seemed like some kind of unbeatable god to her. She watched him and Nishiki train sometimes, and it baffled her that any one person could be so fast and strong and resilient. She had not doubted that Yomo would return, and drag Nishiki back with him even if he had to go toe to toe with Death himself. Tsukiyama… well, she hadn't thought too much about the strange man. Hide had told her not to trust him, for whatever reason. And she always listened to her big brother.

"Idiot," Nishiki groaned. "Do you think she gave a rat's ass about you? She doesn't even know you."

Tsukiyama made a loud, dramatic noise of shock and dismay.

"No," she gasped, waving her hands rapidly through the air. "No, I really was very worried! For all of you! So is everyone okay now? It worked out well?"

"We lost Touka." It was Yomo that spoke. A stark silence fell over the café.

 _Do they not know_ , Hinami thought wildly _, that Touka is here_?

Yoshimura cleared his throat.

"Touka is actually upstairs," he said. Every face in the room turned to him sharply. Nishiki leapt to his feet.

"She made it?" Nishiki's face split into a disbelieving grin. "Damn. That damn bitch. She's— incredible. That's fucking incredible."

"Did she find Ayato?" Yomo asked. His voice was clipped. Hinami watched him. She noted his knuckled were white against the counter. His nails dug into the wood.

Yoshimura nodded, albeit solemnly. "They are both upstairs."

"Well, shit!" Nishiki started toward the door behind the bar. "Let's go congratulate them on losing the doves!"

"I think that's unwise." Yoshimura closed his eyes. The mood flipped once more, and Hinami sighed.

"What happened?" Yomo's face was not visible to Hinami. His voice was steady. But his whole body was tense.

"I'm not quite sure." Yoshimura sighed. "Touka was rather distraught about the whole thing, and Ayato was… unresponsive."

"What does that mean?" Yomo asked. His voice was clipped. Hinami thought it was the closest thing to a snap she'd ever heard from him.

"From what I understand, he was injured by the CCG somehow or another. He'll live, but it may have some lasting damage."

"Shit," Nishiki muttered. "That's never a good sign."

"Lasting…?" Hinami tilted her head. "Sir, what do you mean? Won't Ayato be okay?"

"He may be as fine as he can be," Yoshimura told her, "eventually. But for now, I doubt he'll be returning to that organization anytime soon."

"Good."

All eyes fell upon Hinami. She didn't want to apologize for it. She was certainly glad that Ayato and Touka were here.

"It's _good_ that they're here," she said aloud. "It's a good thing! They're safer here then they are in any ghoul organization!"

"Yes," Yoshimura agreed. "But are they safe from the CCG?"

Hinami fell silent. She didn't know what exactly he was implying, but she could guess. They all fell silent, and she felt the immensity of this conversation fall upon her. It seemed just too grown up— like it was suddenly something she shouldn't be hearing.

"No one is safe from the CCG," Yomo said darkly. "We live with that."

They all fell silent in a sort of solemn agreement. Hinami hated that she saw the truth in these words. She hated that she couldn't hope that they were somehow wrong, because she knew firsthand how awful the doves were. She knew, and yet none of this seemed real. The idea that Touka could be killed. That Yomo could be killed. The Yoshimura, that Nishiki, that Tsukiyama could fall away into the obscurity of time and become nothing but memories. Like her mother.

Death just didn't feel real.

A knock at the door forced everyone in the room to grow tense. Hinami inhaled sharply and held her breath, her thoughts reeling as the dread kicked in. Familiar, aching dread. The thought of losing a loved one, and that fear being so close and so real.

Death didn't feel real. But fear did.

No one moved. No one even looked at the door.

The knock came again. This time louder. There was weight to it.

Hinami closed her eyes. She listened.

" _Please_ ," someone whispered _,_ " _please be awake. Please open the door._ "

Hinami leapt from her stool. She face the door with an awed expression. She thought the voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hina, no!" Tsukiyama hissed.

Hinami unlocked the door and threw it open.

A boy stood teetering in the doorway. He watched her with mismatched eyes. His mouth was parted.

"I thought I heard your voice," she said brightly. "I'm glad you're alright."

Just as she spoke, Mutsuki collapsed on their doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aurigena, aurigenae.  
> offspring of gold.  
> (common epithet for the children of jupiter, i.e. perseus)


	33. suspiratus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. it's been a little while. there are a few reasons, bear with me.   
> so um, two weeks ago my dog died. he was small and got attacked by a few bigger dogs-- i won't go into detail, but i was there when it happened and it shook me up really badly. i've only had a handful of days where i've actually been home because of how traumatizing and sad the whole thing was. i'm doing a lot better though, so don't worry too much about me. i'm only putting this here bc i feel like it's affected my writing, which has been pretty slow going. but yeah, i'll be fine, probably.
> 
> ok, another reason is that i haven't read tg in a few chapters. since the story started focusing on mutsuki again, essentially? i know what's happened though. just reminding you that in this story, mutsuki has a completely different backstory and none of what was revealed recently applies here. 
> 
> anyway the most recent chapter was. idk if hard to write is the right way to put it, but it took longer than usual. i guess it's probably just because i've made a conscious effort to not be home and therefore i really didn't have the chance to write every day like i'm used to. idk. life's been weird lately. i hope you enjoy the chapter.

“Where is Mutsuki Tooru?”

It was difficult. He didn’t know whether to lie or to simply give the half-truth— that he had no idea, that it was impossible to know. He felt nauseous and confused. He felt like the world wasn’t on his side, and it never had been in the first place.

“Look at me, son. Did you see him at all? Do you know where he might have gone?”

Across the road, sitting in the back of a CCG issued white van, towel around his shoulders, was Kaneki. He sat with his legs up, his heels digging into the indented footholds while he hunched forward. His thumbnails were digging against his lower lip and dragging it down pensively.

“If Mutsuki Tooru is dead, you have to tell—”

“ _ Enough _ .” 

Shirazu looked up sharply as Koutarou Amon cut through the swarm of investigators, pushing them back. His eyes were shadowy with rage. Shirazu took a sharp breath, and he held it.

“Stop prying,” Amon snapped. “If Mutsuki Tooru is alive, he will turn up. Understood?”

The two investigators who had been pestering Shirazu looked at Amon with alarm and awe. “Yes, sir,” one gasped. The other merely frowned.

Shirazu swallowed hard when they shuffled away. Amon watched them dully, and then he sighed. He glanced at Shirazu, and patted him on the shoulder.

“You okay?”

Shirazu was about to answer honestly. He was used to being candid. But here he stood, in the dark, chilly December morning, watching investigators scatter as they ushered the dead and injured into various vans and trucks. He was dizzy with the scent of death. His hands were still shaking in the pockets of his coat. 

_ No _ , he wanted to say.  _ No, no, no. My friend—one of the few friends I’ve got— was kidnapped, and now he’s all changed, and everyone I thought I trusted is working with ghouls, and all the ghouls I meet are so human, and I’m not even sure which side I’m on at this point.  _

Instead of all this, he smiled faintly.

“‘m fine.” He sniffed, rubbing his chapped nose against his sleeve and shivering a bit. “Cold, huh?”

Amon didn’t look convinced, but he nodded slowly. His eyes flitted away. Shirazu followed them, and found himself staring at Kaneki.

“He’s taking this hard,” Amon said gravely.

Shirazu stiffened. He remembered all his accusations. He remembered those ghouls he’d been around. He remembered the icy feeling that had erupted in the pit of his stomach when the ghoul had praised Kaneki for being on their side.

“He’ll live,” he said quietly.

Amon glanced at him curiously. He raised his chin and closed his eyes. “This wasn’t a loss, you know,” Amon said quietly. “We managed to scatter Aogiri’s forces, and apparently Suzuya took down Jason.”

“Yeah?” Shirazu perked up. He had not heard any actual good news about this operation. He was just drowning in death.

“Also,” Amon continued, “Rabbit’s been incapacitated, and the remaining Bin Brother seems to have fled Aogiri. Their stronger members are dwindling.”

“So Rabbit was with Aogiri all along,” Shirazu said thoughtfully. “Never thought it’d be like that.”

Amon cracked an eye open. He seemed to be deep in thought.

Shirazu didn’t want to think about Mutsuki anymore. Mutsuki seemed far off. Like a bad dream. He didn’t want to think about Kaneki either. Kaneki was too close. He was a betrayal and an opportunity, and Shirazu didn’t know what to do or how to react.

“Sir,” Amon greeted Shinohara suddenly. Shirazu jerked to attention. “You look better.”

“I’m always better once I get that damn armor off,” Shinohara muttered, rubbing his neck tenderly. He winced a bit. “It’s still a prototype, after all.”

“It really is incredible,” Amon admitted, his voice heightening in slight awe. “I heard that Rabbit was giving it his all. Really, displaying the kind of strength that is unparalleled to any other ghoul faced tonight.”

Shinohara was watching Amon with a sort of patience. His expression was even. His eyes were tired and expectant. Shirazu bit his lip. He felt like he knew where this was going.

“The boy was… erratic.” Shinohara closed his eyes humbly. “He was immensely powerful, yes. It’s possible if he hadn’t been so distracted that he might have really hurt me. He certainly would have killed you.”

“I’ve seen Rabbit fight before,” Amon said coolly. “I could take him.”

“Not this Rabbit, you couldn’t,” Shinohara replied in a soft little retort. His eyes opened sharply, and he looked at Amon with widening eyes. “He was S or SS rated at the very least.”

“I could have—!” Amon objected.

“I know you want revenge,” Shinohara cut in sharply. “I know that it means a lot to you. But without my Arata, fighting him would have proved very difficult.”

“Just because you had armor doesn’t mean it would be impossible to defeat him without it,” Amon said firmly. “Please, Shinohara, don’t patronize me. Rabbit is my kill.”

Shirazu flinched. When it was put like that, it sounded so… heartless. Cruel. He felt nauseous again as he remembered pointing his sword at Mutsuki. He’d almost  _ killed _ his own friend because of blind hatred. Ghouls… were ghouls not people too? Shirazu just couldn’t tell.

“Have you ever killed a child ghoul before, Amon?” Shinohara asked. Amon frowned, thinking about it as passively as if one was remember if they’d ever eaten smoked salmon before.

“Not personally,” he admitted, “no. But I did accompany Mado on investigations that led to young ghouls’ eradication.”

“Then Rabbit will be your first.”

“Rabbit and the Daughter Ghoul,” Amon said firmly. “Fueguchi. So far no clover clad children have appeared, but— Shirazu, are you okay?”

Shirazu had just thought back a few nights ago when he’d sat on the fire escape with a girl with shiny black hair that she kept clipped with a four leaf clover pin. She’d peered through the bars excitedly, the winter air biting at her cheeks and nose and ears. 

“So,” he’d said conversationally, “you’re a ghoul?”

Her awed expression became muted and sad. She had not even looked up at him.

“So,” she’d responded, “you’re a dove?”

“Ha ha,” he’d chuckled nervously, “what’s that?”

“Ghoul investigator.” She had smiled up at him. “Shirazu, right?”

“Shirazu Ginshi,” he’d said, ruffling his hair. “Uh… so, Hinami?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks had been tinted a light shade of pink, and he’d thought it was kinda cute. “Fueguchi Hinami. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Shirazu.”

“Ginshi,” he’d corrected her quickly. She’d glanced up at him, puzzled. “Hey, it’s only fair, ya know? If I call ya Hinami, ya call me Ginshi.”

Just like that, her eyes had lit up. She’d laughed brightly. “Yes,” she’d agreed. “That’s fair.”

Now, listening to these two men go back and forth, he felt utterly sickened. He imagined Kaneki was listening. He felt the heat of Amon’s stare, and he found himself balking further. He had to restrain the impulse to glance at Kaneki to see if he was watching. Instead he simply shook his head furiously.

“W-what?” He blinked up at Amon dazedly. “Amon, did ya say something?”

Amon’s eyes softened. “I was talking about a ghoul involved in a case about my former partner,” he said slowly. “Were you listening to any of that?”

“Ah…” Shirazu smiled sheepishly. It felt tight and wrong on his face. “No, I, uh… I was just thinking. I think I’m gonna go sit down.”

“That’s a good idea.” Amon was clearly worried. His eyes flickered to Shinohara’s, as if to say this discussion wasn’t over, and he helped Shirazu slowly to a seat. Before Shirazu could actually sit down, he was grabbed by the arm.

“I’ll take it from here, Amon,” Kaneki said.

Amon glanced at Kaneki, and he frowned. “Are you sure?”

Kaneki simply shot him a chilly look. “Let’s go, Shirazu,” he said. He didn’t pull Shirazu with him, but instead turned and walked away. Shirazu stared after him for a moment before saying a quick goodbye to Amon and jogging after him.

“Kanekun,” he gasped. Kaneki didn’t respond. He just kept walking. Frantically, Shirazu glanced back at Amon. The man was watching them go, his expression unreadable. Shirazu took a deep breath, and he pushed forward hurriedly. “ _ Kanekun _ ! Are you okay?”

“Fine.” His response was as clipped and vacant as ever. Shirazu wanted to cry. Why was he acting like this? “Let’s go home. Would you like that, Shirazu?”

Shirazu jogged alongside him, hunching to keep up with Kaneki’s long strides. He had his concerns. Like, what the hell was actually going on with this dude? Shirazu didn’t know him that well, and it was becoming abundantly clear that no matter how kind this man seemed, there was something dark in him. Shirazu didn’t  _ mind _ per se— people, he thought, were pretty dark by nature. He was dark! Like, hey, they all had their issues. Shirazu had a particular fear of abandonment and resented his own brain for becoming so bleak.

Shirazu often fantasized of how he might die someday. 

He never told anyone that, of course. He never told anyone that he wasn’t afraid to die, and was probably readier for it than he should be. He never told anyone that he was fine with dying just about any way, as long as it wasn’t suicide.

It was why he tried to be cheerier than he felt. His bad feelings could escalate at any point in time. He didn’t want to bear it.

“Kaneki,” he said quietly, once they were out of CCG earshot and strolling through the bitter streets of Tokyo. The streetlamps illuminated the puffs of their breath. The neon city stretched out around them, sounds trying so very hard to drown out their voices and their thoughts. Shirazu loved the city. It made it so easy to not think. “Is it so hard to tell the truth?”

Kaneki did not look at him. He simply bowed his head. He turned his face away, toward the street, toward the sky.

He took a deep breath.

“You covered for Hinami,” he said.

Shirazu was startled. This wasn’t how he’d imagine their talk would begin. “I—” His voice broke defensively. “Why wouldn’t I? She’s a perfectly nice girl!”

Kaneki blinked at him. He barked a laugh of disbelief. Shirazu’s cheeks turned bright pink, and the heat made his cheeks burn and go numb from the cold lashing against them. 

“ _ What _ ?” Shirazu gasped. “What is it? I ain’t a mind reader, man, I don’t get what your deal is!”

“I…” Kaneki stopped. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, his white coat stained almost completely red, his skin caked with blood, and his hair matted and stained across his forehead. He blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry. I know I’m difficult to live with. Can… can we go home, please? I’ll try my best to explain.”

Shirazu scowled, not fully convinced. But he decided to nod and comply, if only to get some answers. There was obviously something between them now that couldn’t be erased. They’d connected on a personal level somewhere along the line, and Shirazu couldn’t hate Kaneki even if he tried. He didn’t think he was capable of killing him, to be sure. Like, his stint a few hours ago had been a fluke. He didn’t know if he’d actually have done it then. The truth was, he’d just been so emotional. Too emotional. 

Maybe Shirazu should learn to control his emotions better? Maybe.

They walked. It was a long damn walk. The city was theirs tonight, but at a price. It was alive, but consumed by some vicious feeling of loss. Like the drums of war after a Pyrrhic victory.

“I saw Mutsuki,” Shirazu admitted. Kaneki looked at him sharply. His shoulders rose, and they fell. 

“Is that the reason you reacted the way you did when you saw me with ghouls?”

Shirazu frowned. Kaneki put it so bluntly, like it was a completely natural thing to stumble upon. Shirazu had been separated from Amon due a building’s collapse, and he had simply been trying to find someone he knew. He had  _ not _ been in the correct state of mind to see Kaneki surrounded by people who looked like the enemy. So he’d lashed out.

It was beginning to sink in that Shirazu and Kaneki didn’t really know each other all that well. Shirazu could not know how cruel Kaneki could truly be, and Kaneki could not know a thing about Shirazu’s volatility. They were strangers lumped together who had latched onto each other for whatever reason. Maybe it was shared trauma. Shirazu didn’t like to think about his past, and he was sure Kaneki felt the same. But family was something precious. To Shirazu, to Kaneki. To Mutsuki too, even if the boy felt so far away.

“I think ya can make your own guesses about that,” Shirazu said gruffly. “I ain’t gonna explain myself to ya. No offense, Kanekun, but ya fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Kaneki agreed somberly. “You’re right.”

Shirazu didn’t really like that he was agreeing without a hint of resistance. It made everything feel too real. 

“Mutsuki was with a ghoul.” Shirazu rubbed his eyes tiredly. The city lights were blazing, but in a dreamy way. Neon signs burned ghostly silhouettes of words behind Shirazu’s eyes. He took a breath, and he blew it away. His lungs burned and yearned. His fingers itched. He could taste the residual staleness of his morning’s cigarette. “Amon and I attacked them. We might have killed them both if Mutsuki hadn’t unmasked himself.”

“He was wearing a mask?” Kaneki’s voice was sharp and heightened. Not shocked, not really… Excited, maybe? Shirazu glanced at his face to try and gauge his expression, but Kaneki was staring forward impassively. 

“It was one of those masks that all the other ghouls were wearing. The other ghoul had a special one. I didn’t recognize her at first, but I think she’s the one from the picture. The one that saved Urie and Hori.” Shirazu rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. “Mutsuki was… not happy. He looked real bad. He— he grabbed my quinque and didn’t even flinch, and then… it healed so fast…”

Kaneki grimaced. He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. He shot a glance at Shirazu. “You said he was with Touka?”

“Is that her name?”

“Yes, Shirazu, that’s her name.”

“Then I guess. They were swooped up by another ghoul, though. Mutsuki was gonna come with us, but then…”

Kaneki stared at him. He sighed as he slowed to a stop. “Shirazu,” he said quietly. “Go home.”

“What?”

“Go home. I have to go check on something.”

“Are ya kidding?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

No. Kaneki’s hair and face and clothes were all starkly red against the hazy yellow glow of the street lamps. His eyes were dark, hollow husks around the rings of red that swept over his brow and cheekbones.

That didn’t stop Shirazu from huffing. His chest rose, and it fell. He took a step back, shooting Kaneki a heated glare, his throat constricting in a way that made it hard to speak.

“Ya know what?” His words were shaky and thin. Anger held him in a restricting embrace. It made him sway and shake. “Y’know, I get that ya have secrets. I  _ get it _ . But listen here, man, ‘cause ya need to hear this. If all ya do in all your life is push people away, you’re gonna have a pretty lousy time.”

Kaneki didn’t respond. Shirazu deigned to wait and see if he’d make an effort, but he didn’t. There were tears in his eyes when he whirled away and ran.

He ran, but he didn’t go home, because fuck that, honestly. Fuck Kaneki for thinking he had any control over who Shirazu was and what Shirazu did. The night was old, and it was dying with every passing second, and Shirazu had never been one to waste the last dregs of early morning. He was a street child, wild and raw, living with the haze of city lights drawing maps in his eyes. He had no father. He had no roots.

He ran until his lungs felt like they were being compressed, like his ribs had caved in, like he would implode like a collapsing star. He ran until there were tears freezing on his cheeks, and the winter air knifed through his chest and lashed his cheeks redder than a massacre. He ran until he was laughing, until he could not feel the sting of rejection any longer, until the night became his, and the waning city felt alive within him. He fueled it, and it sang to him.

The trouble about Shirazu was that he was a people person. He loved people. He hated being alone with his thoughts. That wasn’t the trouble with it.

The trouble was that he had very few friends.

Currently, one was tortured and missing. Another was a secretive, distant, morally ambiguous shadow that did not seem to know what he wanted. Another was probably finishing up whatever higher ranking investigators did after a raid. 

So Shirazu had to make do.

He made the trek, cutting through alleys and hopping chain-link fences. He didn’t get hassled because he had a tussled look about him, and there was some blood on his cheek, probably, so it was hard not to look tough. He gathered pebbles as he went, small beady stones that bit into his palm as he walked. When he finally made it to the apartment complex, he shook the stones in his palm. They rattled.

Finding the right window took a little bit of time, but the pale white curtains were visible from the street.

Shirazu was a decent shot. The first pebble bounced off the window with a  _ clink _ . He waited about thirty seconds or so before throwing the next one. He waited a shorter amount of time for the next. Just as he was winding up for the fourth, the window slid open sharply.

A round, miserable face glowered down at him.

“Yo,” Shirazu greeted brightly, his voice bouncing off the cool air and cracking in the early morning silence. “Wanna fuck shit up?”

Urie Kuki looked at him like he was the devil himself come to whisk away whatever was left of his soul.

“Are you serious?” It came out as a hiss that Shirazu barely heard. “Are you  _ crazy _ ?”

“Not certifiably.”

“It’s four in the morning!”

“All the more reason to party!”

Urie scowled. It was hard to see his face clearly in the darkness, but that much was apparent. “Go home.”

“Bro,” Shirazu groaned, throwing his head back. “Bro! Please let me up. I don’t want to go back to the apartment, nobody’s gonna be there.”

“My dad…”

“Isn’t home yet,” Shirazu called, “obviously. Or ya wouldn’t have opened the window. Don’t ya wanna have a little fun before ya die?”

“I don’t plan on dying young, like some people.”

“Live a little!” Shirazu opened his palm and let the pebbles clatter into the road. “Let me up, man. Ya won’t regret it.”

There was a short pause as Urie stared down at him, his face so pale it was almost luminescent in the dark.

“I already do,” he said gravely as he pulled back from the window. He left it open, which Shirazu took as a good sign. Quickly, he dashed toward the front door of the building, waiting in the cold and puffing clouds of breath to pass the minute by. Urie appeared behind the glass door, barefoot and clad in pajamas.

“Cute,” Shirazu told him brightly as he opened the door, allowing Shirazu to enter. His pajamas were flannel, cold tones creating patterns that were almost reminiscent of clouds. Urie scowled at him.

“Why are you here?” he asked curtly.

“Why not?” Shirazu sniffed, and wiped his nose. It was freezing from the cold.

“Because it’s  _ four am _ .”

“Yeah, so? Night’s not over yet.” Shirazu swatted Urie’s arm playfully and started up the stairs two at a time. “By the way! Your dad is fine. I saw him during the clean-up. He probably ain’t gonna be home for a few more hours.”

“Shocking.” Urie’s voice was monotone, but when Shirazu glanced back at him, he could tell from the way the boy’s tired eyes lowered that he was relieved.

“Warm,” Shirazu breathed when they reached Urie’s apartment. Urie brushed past him, turning on his light and marching toward his room. Shirazu followed mutely.

“I’m not saying I want to go,” Urie said cautiously, leading Shirazu into his bedroom and folding his arms across his chest, “but I would like to know what you had in mind.”

“Ya don’t plan adventures, man,” Shirazu said. “Ya let them come to ya.”

“That’s stupid.”

Shirazu scoffed. “You have never had an adventure in your goddamn life,” he declared.

“You don’t know me,” Urie snapped.

“Well,” Shirazu said irritably, throwing out his arms, “whose fault is that? I’ve tried to be friendly with ya, y’know. But you’re all like, don’t talk to me!” Shirazu waved his arms and shuddered dramatically. “You’re so extra!”

“I have never said that in my entire life,” Urie said. “Nor would I bother.”

“Are you saying I’m not worth your time?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Shirazu couldn’t help but grin. “Then why am I here?” he shot. “In your room? Ha!” He jerked a finger in Urie’s shocked face. “You  _ do _ care about me!”

“Shut the hell up.”

Shirazu just laughed. He didn’t really know what else to do. After all, this whole thing had been on impulse, and he was just hoping it’d work out in the end.

Urie stood, his miserable face scrunching up irritably as he watched Shirazu. He took a deep breath, and he sighed. His head rose, and it fell. “Fine,” he said.

“Fine?” Shirazu repeated in awe.

“Yes. You heard what I said. Fine. Let’s go have an adventure.” Urie turned to his bed and began to stuff it with pillows as though to make it seem like there was a body beneath the white comforter. Shirazu quickly butted in.

“Let me do that,” Shirazu insisted. “I’ve got a lot of experience with sneakin’ out. Trust me, your dad’ll know if ya set the pillows up like that.”

“Well, what do  _ you _ suggest?”

“Keep one pillow out, for one thing,” Shirazu said, rolling his eyes. “Fluff the blanket up— man! Just go get changed, I can do this.”

Urie’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he dropped a pillow like it was on fire, his hands thrown up beside his face. “Sir, yes,  _ sir _ ,” he hissed, shouldering him sharply on his way to his wardrobe.

Shirazu ignored Urie’s foul attitude. It was a weird time, after all, and this was a weird thing to be doing. He didn’t care that much. He just wanted someone around.

After he tucked the pillows in just right, tossing the comforter about so it actually looked slept in— since it had not been, previously. Shirazu had suspected that Urie had been awake even before Shirazu had arrived, but the bed had confirmed it. Urie had been waiting for his father to come home.

“Is this warm enough?”

Shirazu turned around to see Urie had already dressed himself. He wore a pair of thick, water resistant pants and a tee shirt that looked like it might have been purple once but had been stretched and faded and stained with oil paint. Over it was a zip up sweater, its plum colored hood sticking out of the collar sticking out of a black bomber jacket.

“Maybe get a hat,” Shirazu suggested.

“You’re not wearing a hat,” Urie pointed out.

“I’m stupid, though.”

Urie eyed him. The corners of his lips quirked. “Fair point,” he said, snatching a gray beanie from an open drawer. He tossed it at Shirazu, who snatched it from the air with a bewildered expression. Urie did not seem to notice or care. He plucked up his own hat, which was almost identical save for the color.

“Thanks,” Shirazu said faintly as Urie tugged on a pair of boots.

“Just remember to give it back.”

“Nah, I think I’ll keep it.”

“Go to hell.”

It went on like that. It was possible, Shirazu thought, that they would never get along. He was pretty fine with that idea. It was fun to argue with Urie. It didn’t feel heavy to banter. Just fun.

Urie suggested they go down the fire escape. He had one right under his window, but they would need to drag the ladder down to the street. Shirazu called it easy peasy. Urie shoved him so hard he almost actually fell off.

“Watch this!” Shirazu turned and stepped backwards off the final platform, the chilly air whooshing beneath him. He held his hands up over his head, and clapped them against the last bar of the ladder. The shock of his bare palm meeting icy metal rung through the entirety of his arms and caused a vicious sort of ache in his shoulders. His legs dangled as the metal ladder gave way and began to lower toward the ground in a series of rickety  _ clicks _ .

Shirazu’s boots hit the ground, and he yanked the ladder until it scraped the asphalt. Then he let go and watched as Urie descended, one boot clipping a bar at a time. When Urie jumped down beside him, he tilted his head and eyed Shirazu warily.

“So what now?”

Shirazu grinned.

* * *

One thing that was certain about Kaneki Ken— his ability to make a situation worse held no bounds.

He stood for a while just swaying in the cold and the foggy night haze after Shirazu had stomped away. Those words  _ had _ hurt. It wasn’t like Kaneki felt nothing— not right now, anyway. Actually, right now Kaneki felt entirely too much, and it hurt so bad. Was this what it was like? To live with the consequences of your actions? Kaneki wouldn’t know. He’d always intended on dying before finding out.

Now, though, it was hard to think about dying when so much hinged on him staying alive. Touka’s safety. Mutsuki’s safety. Even Shirazu needed him, in a way, to keep the CCG from devouring his soul.

Kaneki wiped his eyes furiously. His hands came back bloody.

He was a series of bad ideas come to fruition. He was a mess of contradictions. He was the past, the present, and the future.

He whirled around and made his course clear in his head. It’d take maybe twenty minutes. He started running.

In the end, he hadn’t saved Mutsuki. Touka had. It wasn’t surprising, and he wasn’t particularly hurt over it. If anything, he was bitter, but that feeling would fade once he saw Mutsuki’s face. Once he knew Touka was okay.

When he reached Anteiku, he was breathless and sweaty and thinking about how goddamn tired he was. His whole body ached. He needed a shower. Anyone awake at this hour had glanced at him and shuffled away quickly.

He saw the lights on in the front, so he stepped up onto the small stoop. He knocked on the door.

It took a solid minute before the door swung open. Kaneki bowed his head. He remembered all of a sudden that he was completely covered in blood.  _ Dumb _ , he thought to himself _ , dumb, dumb, dumb. _

Yoshimura stood before him, his crinkly eyes shadowed by the way the dim lights within the coffee shop hit his back.

“Kaneki,” he said gently. “It’s been quite a while.”

“Sorry.” It was all he could say, really. “Can I come in?”

“If you’d like.” Yoshimura stepped aside, allowing Kaneki the grand surge of nostalgia that prickled at all his senses the moment he stepped into Anteiku. It was always a sensory overload to stand where he had once stood, to know all that he had lost, all that he could not have. The door creaked shut behind him. He felt like he was in a dream, and nothing that had happened in the last few months had been real.

He wanted to start again. How arrogant could he be?

One miracle just wasn’t enough.

His eyes rose, and they fell.

Hinami was the only other person in the room.

“I thought…” He wiped his bloody cheek with his sleeve. “I was hoping I’d find Mutsuki here.”

There was a short silence. The stool wobbled as Hinami lifted herself from it.

“You actually just missed him.” Yoshimura spoke in a level tone, but Kaneki could sense his caution. “We are not entirely sure how these… quinx, do you call them? How they work. But that boy was starved long enough that his ghoul side became dominant.”

“What?” Kaneki asked faintly, his eyes darting to Yoshimura’s face. “Dominant?”

“He smells the same,” Hinami offered weakly. “He’s still the same! But…”

“But he’s not the same,” Kaneki said, clarifying her statement with a slow string of words. Hinami stared at him, and she looked away sharply. “Where did he go? Don’t tell me you let him leave by himself.”

“Yomo and Nishio took him,” Yoshimura said. “We’re a bit full at the moment.”

“Full?” Kaneki frowned, drawing a hand down his face. “I— okay. Okay, that’s okay. As long as he’s safe. He  _ is _ safe, right? How was he when he got here?”

“Unconscious, I’m afraid.” Yoshimura walked around the counter, patting it gently. Kaneki slowly moved toward it, glancing at Hinami. She stared back at him, brown eyes large and unblinking. There was something tired and forlorn about her that was different than the Hinami he was used to. Kaneki wondered if it was because he was not in her life— or maybe because Hide  _ was _ .

“Unconscious…” Kaneki sat down at the bar tentatively. “Okay. Was he hurt?”

“No, he had no injuries that I could see.” Yoshimura turned away. He began to set up the coffee maker to brew. “It was easy to see that he’d passed out of exhaustion and starvation. We tried to feed him human food first, but he couldn’t keep it down. I sent him with Yomo with a packet from the fridge, so we’ll see how he takes to that.”

“Shit…” Kaneki held his face in his hands. This was not what he’d wanted to hear.

“I understand that you are close with him,” Yoshimura said gently, turning slightly to eye him. “However, if I were you I would be asking the CCG more questions. Why does this boy exist? What is his purpose? How could the CCG inflict such a horrible fate on a child?”

“I’ve been asking them, sir,” Kaneki said bitterly. “I’ve asked and asked and asked. And the only thing I’ve gotten is that I can either be part of the quinx project, or they’ll never know me. They’ll be under someone else’s control. That would be so much worse.”

“There is more than Mutsuki, then?”

Kaneki couldn’t meet Yoshimura’s eye. The coffee maker hummed. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh!” Hinami cried, hopping up onto the stool beside Kaneki. “I met him! Ginshi is really very nice, Mr. Yoshimura.”

Kaneki looked down at Hinami in awe. He didn’t even call Shirazu by his given name. Yet here Hinami was, one upping him yet again. He found himself smiling at her a little. And then he smiled at her a lot.

“Yes,” he agreed, bowing his head. “Shirazu is a really, really good kid. And I… I’m lucky. I’m so lucky to be around him and Mutsuki. It’s why I’ve been so desperate to find him.”

“I understand,” Yoshimura said quietly. He set the cup in front of Kaneki, and the steam floated before him in slim tendrils. “I do not know them, of course, but if they are anything like you, I can imagine why you would be so drawn to them.”

“They’re—” Kaneki cut himself off. He’d been about to cry defensively that they were  _ nothing _ like him. But he knew that was a lie. Mutsuki was  _ exactly _ like him, and Shirazu— not as much, but Kaneki felt it. He felt an inkling of sorrow in the boy that could not be quelled, and it terrified Kaneki in a way that made his whole body ache. “They’re… good kids. Really.”

“Mutsuki may need meat,” Yoshimura pointed out. “Anteiku can supply that for him.”

“If that’s what he wants,” Kaneki said cautiously. “I’ve taken to eating whatever the CCG gives me at this point. It’s… easier on my conscience. But if… if Mutsuki is really a ghoul… then it’s his decision on how he wants to go about this.”

“Very well.”

Hinami simply sat, looking a little glum. She did not say a word about it, though. Whatever bothered her stayed locked inside her, and he wished to understand so he could help.

“Thank you,” Kaneki said. “For taking care of him. You… you didn’t have to. I know that.”

“We always help ghouls in need, no matter where they come from,” Yoshimura said. The way he said it, it was like a defense. Kaneki took a sip of his coffee, and said nothing. “I would like to speak to you, though. Is there any way to remove Touka from her deal with you and the CCG?”

Kaneki had been waiting for this.

“I’ve been trying,” Kaneki sighed, “but Touka didn’t budge when I offered to switch her out for Tsukiyama. And now a lot of the CCG knows what her mask looks like, because I had to beg Washuu to issue a No Kill Order on her. Honestly, at this point I can’t see her pulling out that easily. She’ll be in a lot of danger.”

“She’s in a lot of danger  _ now _ !” Hinami gasped. Kaneki jumped. He’d never heard her raise her voice like that before. “Mr. Kaneki, you don’t understand! Touka needs to be  _ here _ ! She can’t fight your fight for you!”

“She— she’s not fighting my—”

Hinami’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap. They were white and bony. She lifted her head high. “Could I take her place?” she asked.

“No,” Kaneki replied. Even as he spoke, he felt every organ on the upper half of his body drop to his stomach like he had just taken a dip on the crest of a roller-coaster. 

Hinami looked like she didn’t want to speak anymore words, but she was forcing herself to vomit them up. Her face was pale and her eyes were large and fixed upon Kaneki’s face. She looked like she would either faint or cry.

“Why not?”

“Hinami,” Yoshimura said gently, sharing a glance with Kaneki. “You do not have the experience Touka has. I know it’s hard for you, being cooped up here, but you will have your time to be strong and fight your own battles. This is Touka’s demon. We will let her fight it the way she wishes.”

“But she needs to be here, doesn’t she?” Hinami shook her head. “She needs to be with Ayato! She can’t leave again.”

“Ayato?” Kaneki asked, glancing at Yoshimura worriedly. “Her brother? What happened to her brother?”

“He was injured while fighting the investigators,” Yoshimura said. Kaneki didn’t know what to say. He felt… guilty…?

All of a sudden he recalled that boy’s spine beneath his foot as he stomped half his bones to splices.

He shivered, his fingers latching tightly to the scalding cup of coffee. Hinami and Yoshimura watched him. His discomfort didn’t go unnoticed.

“He’ll live,” Yoshimura said, “but there may be lasting damage. The chances of Ayato being able to fight properly again is slim.”

“Damn…” Kaneki felt the quiver in his voice. His brow furrowed, and he tried to understand why he felt so bad about this. He’d never liked Ayato. If he had to be honest, he’d always kind of thought that Touka had deserved a better brother. But Kaneki heard that boy’s screams echoing around in his skull, drowning out his senses and thoughts, and he just couldn’t stand it. 

Kaneki had been… a bad person. Hadn’t he?

He covered his mouth with his hands.

What was the price of becoming strong? What did you lose along the way?

Your empathy?

Your humanity?

Where did the hurting he felt begin and the hurting he inflicted end?

His hands slipped from the counter and fell limply at his sides.

“Yoshimura,” he said very, very quietly, “could I use the restroom?”

“Of course. Do you know where it is?”

Kaneki nodded mutely. He slipped off the chair and wandered the back of the shop. He opened the door and closed it softly. The light flickered on, and he saw. 

There was a monster standing in the mirror. The kind of horror movie menace that sliced open screaming teenagers with a cleaver or a hatchet. The kind that hung corpses on meat hooks and let them swing. He was a husk, a hollowed out bag of bones with waxy skin that was coated in blood. His hair was matted and clung to his forehead in damp curls. His eyes were black pits sunken into his face, like rocks protruding from the surface of the Nile after the first biblical plague.

This wasn’t who he wanted to be.

What the hell did being the strongest mean when you had nothing, and no one, and not even a soul to show for it?

He was losing his mind and his heart and his will to a beast that was inside him.

No more.

Being the strongest meant he  _ might _ possibly be able to protect his friends better, but who would protect his friends from him?

No. No more.

Kaneki had done all of this to  _ avoid _ repeating history. History had already repeated so much, even though so many things had changed. All he’d done was shift the tragedy onto someone else’s shoulders, and Mutsuki didn’t deserve that.

No one deserved that.

Kaneki closed his eyes.

No more.

He looked up. 

He flicked the faucet on, and when he wiped the first smear of blood from his cheek, he smiled.

* * *

Mutsuki woke up in the dark, and he thought,  _ Did Yamori finally kill me? Heaven is so soft. _

He woke up, and he stared into the dark, and he thought, _ My body hurts too much for me to be dead. That’s a pity _ .

Mutsuki Tooru woke up, and it took him about a minute to process the fact that he was alive before he bolted upright. There was a movement across the room that made him anxious. He was done feeling anxious about being alive.

The room was suddenly illuminated by a slithering limb that darted from his lower back and sunk into upholstery with an alarming  _ rip _ . The armchair tipped over, crashing to the floor as a cry of alarm filled the room. Mutsuki sat further upright, a blanket crumpling at his knees as he hopped onto the balls of his feet and watched the silhouette crawl blindly in the direction of the light switch. He couldn’t see features. His head was swimming, and even his eyesight was a little fuzzy. But he knew that it was a man, and he knew that he was holding his head, and he knew that he was human by the way he moved.

Mutsuki drew a finger over his lower lip. His mouth had a taste of residual sweetness. He tentatively stuck his finger between his lips and thumbed the space between his teeth and cheek.

The light flickered on just as he pulled his finger out. 

His heart sank at the sight of the pinkish smear on his thumb.

Blood diluted by saliva.

“Sorry, man.”

Mutsuki looked up fearfully, his kagune shooting back to him and curling defensively over his shoulder. When he saw who had spoken, his whole body relaxed with an alarming rate, and he dropped from his feet onto his knees. He looked down and saw that he was on a bed. A real bed.

Tears filled his eyes.

“What happened to me,” he asked faintly, “Hide?”

“Uh…” Hide blinked wildly. He picked up the chair very carefully. “Where would you like me to start? The Aogiri thing, or…?”

“After that,” Mutsuki cut in sharply, banishing his kagune and pushing his hair from his eyes. It was then that he realized he was filthy. He sniffed his sleeve, and he recoiled. “You let me sleep in your bed when I smell like a corpse?”

“Bro, that’s my dad’s old bed,” Hide said brightly. “Worse things have slept in it, I’m sure. Anyway, I thought about maybe cleaning you up, but I know how you feel about personal space.”

“I like it a whole lot,” Mutsuki said slowly, “yes…”

“So I didn’t do that.”

“Thank you,” Mutsuki said, sighing with some great relief. “I… I would like to shower, if that’s okay with you.”

“We can continue talking after.” Hide walked up to him and offered a hand. Mutsuki stared at it warily. Hide simply smiled. “It won’t bite, silly.”

“Sorry,” Mutsuki muttered. He took Hide’s hand, and found that he was very uncomfortable holding it. He thought about Touka. He remembered the little bandaged ghoul from Aogiri. “Is Touka okay?”

“Yomo and Nishiki said so.”

“Is that who brought me here?” Mutsuki looked around. He was being moved from one room to another. The bathroom was pretty nice, with a pale porcelain tub that was big enough to fit two people, and a showerhead made of stainless steel. Hide let go of his hand to set a towel down on the toilet seat cover. 

“Yeah. Hold on, I gotta grab you some clothes.” Hide disappeared for a moment, leaving Mutsuki to stand, his grubby toes curling against the icy tile floor. He took a deep breath. It almost hurt to breathe. He spotted a mirror, and he took a step toward it.

The sight was, admittedly, a grim one.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. It wasn’t even that bad. His eyes were sort of sunken, the mismatched colors dim and lifeless. He had so many bags beneath them, and the ugly bruising that signified his sleepless nights under torture were pretty gross. His skin was sallow, but the pigment was still there. He was pale, but in a sickly way that didn’t erase his innate brownness. Now his skin was a sickly sort of yellow that served as a painful reminder of the health he’d lost under the knife. Last but not least, his hair. There were streaks of white in the choppy brown mess.

He’d literally stressed himself into old age.

Bravo, bravo. He felt like he was going to burst into tears, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. The only reasonable answer was  _ everything _ .

But the tears didn’t come. Mutsuki wondered if he should be disappointed.

“Here we go!” Hide dropped the clothes onto the toilet with the towel. He whirled around to face Mutsuki, and waggled his finger warningly. “You better not put your binder on after you shower! I did my research, mister. You shouldn’t have had it on for as long as you have!”

“But I’m a ghoul,” Mutsuki said flatly. “It’s fine…”

“No it is not,” Hide said firmly. “Don’t you use that excuse with me! Do you know who I am? I do research for  _ fun _ !”

“And yet you’re undeclared,” Mutsuki muttered.

“I’m wasting money,  _ that’s _ what I’m doing, but that isn’t what we’re talking about right now, is it?” Hide shook his head. “No, we’re talking about how reckless and stupid you are being! I know it helps, Mutsuki.” His voice softened, and Mutsuki had to take a step back in shock. “I know it makes you feel better. But your health is more important.”

“Um,” Mutsuki said in a cool, level tone, “I just got tortured. I don’t really care anymore. About my health. Or about what people think of me. I’m really tired of it all, honestly. But whatever, if that’ll make you feel better, I won’t wear it tonight.”

“Cool,” Hide said brightly. “So you’ll let me wash it?”

“Oh.” Mutsuki hadn’t even considered the idea that it might need washing. “Yeah, that… um. Yes.”

Hide snapped his fingers so his thumb and forefinger resembled a gun. “You’re the best kid,” he said, in a way that made it hard to tell if he was calling Mutsuki “kid” or if he was saying that out of all the kids, Mutsuki was the best. 

These were the things passing through his mind right now. 

Hide left, and Mutsuki fumbled with the faucet for a minute or so before it turned on. He peeled the soiled clothing off and kicked it to the far side of the room. When he got into the shower, the water hit him like steel beams raining from the sky. He buckled. Then, he turned into the steely downpour, and he basked in it.

He didn’t cry. He wondered if his body had forgotten how. Or if it had simply cried itself out of tears. Regardless, here he was, standing and soaking it all in. Not a single real thought passed through his mind. He sank down to his knees, the water beating at his back, and he was so utterly blank. Tabula rasa. It sang to him.

He pressed his knees to his chest and his mouth into his knees and stared at the white porcelain floor of the bathtub. The water gathered around his feet, tinged pink as it scraped away the remains of what Yamori had done.

Mutsuki closed his eyes.

_ I don’t want to do this anymore _ , he thought.

What was  _ this _ ? Investigating? Hiding? Pretending like he was okay?

He wasn’t sure. It could be all three at once.

_ I should run away,  _ he thought.  _ Run, run, let’s run away, let’s never go back, let’s just forget— let me forget. I want to forget. _

But the worst part was, he remembered.

He saw the bandaged ghoul behind his eyes. 

Aogiri. Aogiri had done this.

To him, to Touka, to Ayato. It had ruined everything.

But he knew. He knew he wouldn’t have been there if he had never agreed to become a human guinea pig. A lab rat. Now he wasn’t even human anymore.

The CCG. The CCG had done this, too.

To him. To Shirazu. To Kaneki.

Empires rose, and they fell.

Mutsuki would love to watch them burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suspiratus, suspiratus.  
> deep breath, sigh.  
> labored breathing.


	34. quidni?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for all your kind words!! i'm feeling a lot better this week, which is probably reflected in the fact that i got the new chapter done faster than the last. ah, i hope you enjoy shirazu and urie hanging out together.. bc i do.. i really really do.
> 
> enjoy!!

Life is pretty short and pretty fleeting and pretty damn difficult to deal with.

It was the small moments. The small, self-contained moments of absolute contentment that grew into a sort of singular bliss. It was wanting to capture a sight with a camera— no.

It was wanting to lock up a scent with a carefully labelled, artfully decorated phiall— no.

It was wanting to catch a feeling in a jar. A _feeling_. Life wasn't images or scents, it was the emotions those senses produced. It was the company you held.

It was painting in abstract.

Agreeing to Shirazu's madness had never been on Urie's list of things to do ever. But the truth was, Urie was tired, and he was nervous, and he knew for a fact that he'd regret not going.

Now the sun was rising, and Urie was catching stray snowflakes on his tongue as Shirazu lined up empty beer bottles on the muddy river bank. The beer had been in a bag that Shirazu had stashed. He'd explained that he'd used to work in that building. Urie didn't ask for the details. All he knew was that Shirazu had the key, and he'd hidden one of his "infamous party stashes" on the roof.

Urie had noted that he'd said "one of."

Now they were sitting on the rocky incline of a stream.

"Ya done with that?" Shirazu jerked a finger at Urie's half-empty bottle of Sapporo Premium which sat on a flat rock beside his limp arm. Urie sat up, the snowflake he'd been following with his eyes landing on the tip of his lashes as he scooped up the bottle and brought it to his lips. He didn't miss Shirazu's amused smirk when he tipped the bottle back and downed it.

"Easy there, tiger," Shirazu laughed, crouching down on the balls of his feet. "Ya still got school today."

"I'm good." Urie spoke thickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and handing off the bottle.

"If ya say so." Shirazu happily took the bottle and rested it in the mud beside the others. Urie sniffed, his nose red and chapped from being out in the cold for so long. He rested his arms on his knees, frowning as Shirazu pulled a baseball bat from his bag of tricks.

"You're so juvenile," Urie said.

"Just for that," Shirazu said, pointing at him with the bat, "ya don't get to destroy these with me."

"I would have passed on that anyway." Urie said this, but he thought it might really be a lie once he saw Shirazu line up and smash one of the bottles with a swing that brought the bat whistling in a sharp curve that almost came to a circle. It looked cathartic.

"Whoo!" Shirazu hooted, resting the bat against his shoulder and shooting Urie a bold grin. "That felt great!"

"Barbaric."

"Aw, shaddap." Shirazu winked. "I'm just havin' a little fun. Are ya okay?"

Urie found himself folding up. His body curled against itself. He couldn't figure out why Shirazu would ask that, when he was the one who was exhausted and bloody from a _CCG Raid_. All Urie had done was drink two bottles of beer and throw some rocks into the riverbed.

"I'm fine." _Why the hell do you care?_

Shirazu smiled contentedly. "Good." He smashed another bottle. It glittered against the sliver of light that had crept its way across the horizon, melting some of the deep blue sky into shivery grayness. The arc of shattered glass glinted in the soft morning glow. "What's your dad gonna do if he finds out you snuck out?"

"I don't know." Urie hadn't thought that far ahead. He was already technically grounded for the Aogiri thing. He really didn't want to hear his dad lecture him again about his safety. He was just so fed up with all of it. Overprotective, much? Urie felt stifled.

Shirazu tapped his bat against the gravel. The metallic ring floated in soft notes toward the double-toned sky. "At least someone cares," Shirazu offered lightly, "y'know?"

He smashed another bottle. This one skittered across the surface of the water and sank deep.

Urie watched. He lowered his eyes, and try to banish the sympathetic thoughts that were whirring through his brain. Urie was not generally a very compassionate person. But he felt this boy's frustration. He felt this boy's loneliness.

Was Urie not lonely too?

He pulled a large rock up from the bank he sat on, and he flung it at the last bottle. It shattered.

"Whoa!" Shirazu jumped up, not so much in shock as in excitement. He flung his arms out, his bat swaying uselessly in his hand. "Nice shot!"

"Yeah. I'm good."

"And humble, apparently!"

"Of course."

It was like the world didn't matter. Like there was no future or no past. Was this what it was like to be a teenager? A real one, who did things outside of schoolwork and training? Urie had friends, in a sense— he did talk to people at school sometimes. But this was different. This was new. He didn't feel like he'd ever felt before, and it was a sort of mystical force of nature that put him alongside this boy and made him feel like he could sit here forever and be content with that.

Shirazu plopped down beside him. He was smiling goofily in the dim morning light. "You should sneak out more," he said.

"Maybe I will," Urie said.

"You definitely should."

"Don't push me, Shirazu," Urie said coolly.

Shirazu merely held up his hands in slight defense, still smiling a goofy smile. He hung his head back and smiled at the sky. He was doing a whole lot of smiling for a boy who had just seen a whole lot of horror. Urie was jealous of his composure, thinking back to his panic and anxiety over the whole almost dying with Hori thing.

"Did you find your friend?" Urie asked. Of course it had been on the tip of his tongue since he'd seen Shirazu outside his window. He just hadn't known when to ask it.

Like clockwork, Shirazu's smile slid off his face, and his head lowered significantly. His chin touched his chest.

"Yes," he said, "and no."

"How informative."

"What do ya want me to say?" Shirazu leapt to his feet, shooting Urie a sharp look. "I don't wanna talk about it. I didn't grab ya so we could chat about it."

"Then why _did_ you come to me?" Urie sat up, dusting himself off carefully. He didn't want to drag any dust or mud into his room. "We're not friends."

Shirazu sighed. He turned away and made the trek up the rocky bank. Urie watched mutely, a frown tugging at his lips. Finally Urie scowled at his feet and trudged up the rocks after him.

"Hey," he said, fumbling a bit as the rocks slid beneath his fingers. He managed to plant his feet on solid ground, and stalk after Shirazu's stocky shadow. " _Hey_! I didn't say that to be mean!"

"Ya did a bad job of it."

Urie scoffed. Shirazu was so damn temperamental— how the hell was Urie supposed to talk to him?

"You need to learn how to take some brute honesty."

"That ain't honesty, man, that's just a bunch of bullshit. Ya say we ain't friends. Nah, man." Shirazu swung the bat loosely against the air, and it whistled. "Ya just don't wanna be friends with me."

 _He's not wrong_ , Urie found himself thinking. He felt unbelievably guilty when that thought settled, and he looked away sharply. "You're wrong," he muttered.

"Okay. Sure I am."

Urie's fingers turned to fists. He was a little tipsy— probably a little tipsy. He'd never had that much alcohol before. Shirazu had not really explained where he got his stashes, only that he'd been a real delinquent in his day. That was no real surprise.

"You are," Urie insisted. He didn't know exactly why he felt the need to insist. It wouldn't spare Shirazu's already bruised feelings. Urie supposed it was his own guilty conscience that he wanted to soothe. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to do, and this was all so new to him. Friendship. Maybe he should just accept the inevitable.

It'd really stick it to his dad if he decided to take up Shirazu's offer and be his friend.

But how willing was Urie to anger his father even further? His father was already aware of Urie's various mistakes— the gun theft, the Aogiri scare, the defending of a real life ghoul— and now this. Being friends with Shirazu, the boy his father adamantly warned him against. Urie knew why, of course. He was keenly aware that everything his father did and said was just in order to protect him.

But Urie wanted to make his own decisions. He had his own opinions— or at least, he was capable of forming opinions himself. He didn't want to think that maybe some ghouls weren't so bad, but he knew the evidence before him dictated that he should think so. He wanted to understand. He didn't think he was a bigot, but he also wasn't stupid.

Ghouls were _dangerous_. His father made a living out of being really damn good at killing them.

So being a ghoul sympathizer? That was pretty much an impossibility.

Urie wondered if he could dare to do the impossible.

Limits had never bothered him before.

Shirazu stood on the bridge, watching him dully. His face was gaunt in the gray haze that the new morning had brought. The sun sent a fog tumbling through the city, illuminating the waves like the dislocated clouds were as smooth as the surface of the ocean. When Shirazu watched, he didn't make a sound. He didn't move. He just stood, solid and sure, a force of nature that knew all too well what was at stake.

Urie had never felt sheltered until today.

 _I have to go to school_ , he thought.

"I have school," he said aloud.

Shirazu lifted up his chin pointedly. His lips flattened, and his eyes flickered toward the sky in a knowing sort of way. Urie couldn't help but feel offended at the gesture. The expression that spoke louder than any bark this boy could sound, that made words fall into Urie's ears without a need for sounds to be exchanged.

 _Figures_ , the roll of the eyes said. _Guess he's just a goody-two-shoes after all._

If Urie loved anything at all, it was the thrill of proving people wrong.

So Shirazu stood, solid and sure, his dumb metal baseball bat resting on his shoulder, and a cigarette box in hand. He pulled one out with his teeth, and he stuffed it into the folds of his baggy olive green coat. His hand returned with a box of matches.

It was a sight. Baseball bat resting lazily, as comfortable between his shoulder and chin as a violinist with his instrument. He struck the match against the concrete wall of the bridge, fire sparking starkly against the blue and green and yellow graffiti that glistened in the silvery morning sun. The flame seemed to give off more light than the silver sun itself, warmth radiating from Shirazu's long fingers and falling between his teeth. The end of the cigarette glowed like a beacon in the midst of a stormy sea, shifting the shadows along Shirazu's elongated face, sharpening his angular features to the point where he looked like his bones were knives protruding beneath his skin.

He took a deep drag on his cigarette, moving his head so that his feathery yellow hair fell against his cheeks. He flicked the match away and plucked the cigarette from his lips. Smoke bloomed like flowers in a time lapse.

"Go to school," Shirazu said, his breath a cloud of smoke. Urie had never really liked the idea of smoke— or maybe he just had learned from his father that smoking was an ugly habit. "Y'know, I did keep ya for a while. I ain't mad. Do what ya gotta do, man."

Urie considered it. He considered returning home, boots muddy and cheeks glowing deeply pink from exposure and alcohol and guilt and maybe something else. He considered the possibilities, the immediate future (a school day filled with unfocused dilemmas, a lecture waiting for him at home, a boy who was more stranger than friend and had nothing to lose but time) and the far outstretched future (Urie investigating, killing ghouls, finding the woman who had saved him, taking her by the hair and severing her head from her spine). He thought about it. He saw it all so vividly.

What did he want, exactly?

He wanted success. He wanted to make his father proud. He wanted to live and live and live, and hold on to the feelings that were so fleeting. He wanted a friend. He wanted to run away. He wanted to curl up in his bed and never leave. He wanted to paint sunsets and oceans and smiles and the faint glow of a smoldering cigarette. He wanted to destroy something beautiful. He wanted to create something ugly. He wanted nothing but to have everything, and he was hollowed out inside from wanting to damn much.

In the end, there was no answer.

Just him and his endless possibilities.

He had the right to choose. He had the will.

It was just a matter of acting now.

So he acted.

He snatched Shirazu's cigarette right out of his lips, and he sat upon the concrete wall, lifting his legs up and turning towards the rising sun.

"In a hurry to get rid of me?" It didn't sound so smug as much as it sounded sad. Shirazu blinked down at him. The sunrise was a more interesting sight.

"Not at all."

Urie put the cigarette to his lips. "Then sit," he said.

Shirazu did not sit until Urie had the cigarette in his mouth, and he'd turned his face away to hide his disgruntled expression when the smoke hit the back of his throat.

"Are we friends?" Shirazu asked.

Urie spoke with nothing but a cloud of smoke to Shirazu's face.

* * *

Her muscles were stiff and her eyes burned, but you know. Whatever. The hot shower that she'd longed for for weeks and weeks on end just made her fingers into prunes and her eyes into cherries. She could see how bloodshot and puffy they were through the foggy mirror. She rubbed them furiously with a towel, but it only irritated them more.

She didn't want Ayato to know she'd been crying.

Of course she knew that she would have to decide what to do with her life from here on out. There was the CCG. There was Aogiri. And most important of all, there was Ayato. What was she supposed to do with all of this responsibility?

She dressed herself in shorts and a tee shirt. No matter how strong she thought she was, she couldn't take on the whole world. Not alone, at least.

When she left the bathroom, she found herself incapable of going back into the bedroom. She was clean, but there was still grime caked to her skin, blood in her hair, dirt under her nails, and when she breathed it was decay that she tasted.

Touka scrubbed at her eyes furiously. Feelings like that didn't go away overnight. Feelings like this didn't wander or stray— they attached themselves like parasites to a host. It was pretty sickening.

 _I can be brave_ , she thought.

Why did she need to tell herself to be brave to face her own brother?

The uncertainty of his own thoughts and feelings, the sense that she might make him angry or sad, created obstacles that had never existed before.

Right now, she was her own worst enemy.

 _I_ _ **am**_ _brave_ , she thought firmly, her bare feet padding against the cool floor. Her hand stretched against the door, and she poked her head into the room tentatively.

Ayato was awake. His body curled up into a tight ball, chin tucked close to his knees, hair loose and shaggy around his face. His eyes were open, staring vacantly at the opposite wall.

"Hey," she said. Her voice felt like ice chips getting caught in her throat. His body remained unmoving. Unflinching. His eyes did not so much as flutter in recognition. "Um, do you… want some coffee, or something?"

She could stand there forever, it seemed, and get not even a wink in response.

Touka inhaled deeply, a sigh filling her up and locking itself in the depths of her chest. She shook her head. "Ayato," she said, stepping into the room. Her stomach was all knotted, her toes cold and cramping as she walked diligently on the tips of them. "Don't ignore me."

His eyes slid slowly to her face. His mouth opened.

"Leave me alone."

Not the words she wanted to hear.

In fact, those words made her feel like someone had taken a saw and torn through her abdomen, sending all her internal organs spilling onto the floor.

It wasn't shock. It was just plain old hurt. Disappointment. Guilt.

She could swim in the emotions that flooded her senses.

"Ayato…" She started forward. A pillow came whizzing toward her, hurling itself at her face and knocking her back a few steps. It stung.

" _Leave_ ," Ayato spat. He tugged up her blanket over his head and disappeared beneath it.

Touka didn't know what to do or what to say. He was her world, and she was his nightmare.

She quietly retreated back into the kitchen, unable to find the words or the wrath to fight back. She didn't know why, but it was like the endless well of rage that sat within her had dried out. With a hand to her mouth, she came to the revelation that she was more than just her fury— she was sadness and longing and remorse.

Her teeth tore at her lower lip as she pushed both her hands to her mouth to dampen any sort of pitiful sound that might come out of her. It wasn't fair. Why should she be treated like this? What could she do?

But she knew that Ayato wasn't at fault. She knew that if she had been in his place, she'd blame him just as well.

 _Brave_ , she thought, her thoughts all jumbled and frantic in the wreckage of her mind. _Brave, Brave. I'm brave, I'm brave, I'm brave. Let me be brave._

A mantra that stuck to her head like wallpaper. She pasted it along the caverns of her mind. Let it be known. Let it be thus.

Let it be true.

And it was.

She pried her hands from her lips and tossed her hair from her eyes. She marched through the kitchen, fingers tightly formed into fists, and she left the apartment. Her feet made little sound on the stairs.

Curious eyes met her as she stepped behind the front counter of Anteiku. Her bare legs and bare feet were unbearably cold. _Brave_ , she reminded herself. She bore the stares with as much dignity as she could.

"Tou—?" Koma's eyes flitted toward her, and he looked suddenly so happy that for a moment she felt very light. Like all her burdens had been lifted.

They dropped back onto her immediately when her eyes met the tawny gaze of the boy behind Koma.

"You look lovely this morning," Nagachika Hideyoshi chirped, "Touka."

She almost turned around and ran back upstairs.

For a while there, she'd kinda forgotten about his existence.

Touka turned her attention back to Koma, decidedly ignoring the sugary advances of Hide. His tone was a regular flirtatious lilt. _Touka-chan_ was a familiar song on his lips by now, and he would sing it as long as he had a tongue, it seemed.

"I'm going to make Ayato some coffee," she told Koma curtly.

"Couldn't you have… gotten dressed first?" Koma offered, smirking at her makeshift pajamas and letting his eyebrows raise. Touka raised hers right back.

"It's not your business what I wear, Koma," she told him coolly. "Also, nice to see you again. Wouldn't you like to know how I've been? Well, now you don't get to." She elbowed past him and began working at the coffee maker. Hide just watched her amusedly. She didn't even look at him when she spat, "My face is up _here_ , Hide."

"Yes," he agreed, "and what a beautiful face it is!"

"Then why don't you focus on it," she told him curtly, resting a cup beneath the nozzles of the brewer, "instead of my legs?"

"I can't look at both?"

"You're gross." She watched the coffee drip into the cup, filling it up nearly to the brim. Hide continued to watch her. Koma got between them before Touka threw her coffee into his face.

She didn't say goodbye to either of them. She just took the cup and went back upstairs. When she returned to her apartment, she locked the door behind her. Then she took the cup to her room.

Ayato's eyes did not meet hers. In fact, the only thing he did was roll over so he was facing the wall instead of her. Carefully, she set the coffee down on the bedside table. She shot him one last, somber look, before she exited the room.

She immediately stopped. Standing in the open entryway was Hide, smiling at her brightly.

"What the hell?" she breathed.

He held up a cup of coffee weakly. "Thought you might want one for yourself," he said.

"How did you get in here?" she snapped.

Hide stared at her blankly. He balanced the cup in one hand, and then calmly held up a key.

"Oh," she said flatly. She'd forgotten she'd given that to him. She looked down at her feet. "Well— I mean… Thanks. I guess."

"Always a pleasure," he said brightly. He walked up to her coffee table and set the cup down. She slowly approached him, sitting on her couch and staring at the cup dumbly.

"You're taking your break now," she said, "aren't you?"

"Yeah?"

"Why?"

"So you could have coffee?" Hide laughed. He glanced at the armchair across from her couch. "May I…?"

"Fine."

He sat.

She took the cup into her hands, thumbing the warm ceramic and closing her eyes. It had been awhile since she last spoke to this boy.

"So," he began conversationally, "your brother."

"Yeah."

"He okay?"

"No."

Hide blinked. He nodded. "Is he sleeping?"

"No."

Hide simply nodded again. "Let him be distant," he said. Touka peered up past her cup at him. "Let him be angry. Let him hate you. He'll get over it if you let it fizzle out."

"You don't know Ayato," she muttered into her cup.

"No," he said, "but I know you, I think. You can't be much different."

"You don't know me," she told him curtly.

"I know you well enough."

"No."

He smiled. He held up his hands in defense, and he sank into the chair. She glared at him.

"Have you spoken to Kaneki?" he asked.

She leaned back, lowering the cup from her face and staring at him blankly. Kaneki. In all her frantic searching, in all her sadness and bemusement, that boy had somehow escaped her thoughts. But now that his name had been uttered, she felt a new wave of fear and confusion and sadness and guilt.

"No," she said quietly.

"Me neither." He sighed, picking up his feet and resting them on his chair. He tucked his chin against them. "I tried calling him. Texting him. Emailing him. He either has his phone off, or he's ignoring me. Which is his own damn loss, since Mutsuki is currently at my apartment, sleeping off the bad experience."

"Mutsuki's with _you_?" Touka gasped, jerking forward. She almost spilled some of her coffee. That boy had promised he'd be at Anteiku that morning, but when no one had said anything about him, she'd just assumed that he wasn't there. Hide blinked at her curiously.

"Did no one tell you?"

"The last time I saw him, he was babbling about going off by himself to— to I don't know! Think, or whatever!"

"You let him?" Hide's eyes widened, and then they softened considerably. He lowered his face further into his knees to hide a smile that Touka had already spotted. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I can't control him, he's his own damn person!" Touka realized how shrill she sounded, how likely it was that Ayato was eavesdropping, so she lowered her tone. "He's okay, though? He… he got to you okay?"

"He's definitely shaken up." Hide shrugged. "I felt bad leaving him alone, but I left him a note and a stack of movies to watch."

"Watching movies alone after being tortured isn't the best form of therapy," Touka said coolly.

"No," he agreed with a humble smile, "but it's the best I can do right now. The truth is, I don't know how to deal with this type of thing. I feel like everything I say will make it worse."

Touka couldn't help but find herself empathizing on a level that she didn't even know she could empathize on. She turned her head and glanced back at her bedroom door. When she looked back at Hide, he was simply staring. His eyes were unnerving, the type of gaze that seemed to absorb all the color from the world around them and drink in surroundings like nectar.

It was like he knew her thoughts, and she wanted nothing more than to silence them and him and the whole wide world.

"It can only get better," she said faintly. "Right?"

He grinned. His smile made his honeyed eyes burn like sun rays. She wanted to shield her eyes, but she couldn't. "Better," he said, "worse. Who's to say, really? What matters is that we try."

"And if that does nothing?" She set the cup down and let her fingers clench into fists as she leaned forward. She was half tipping off her seat. "If that helps no one? Hide, this isn't your world. It's mine. Ayato, Hinami, Mutsuki— they're ghouls. You're human. You can't understand the magnitude of any of this."

He looked unimpressed by her declaration. His smile was keenly in place, and his eyes still burned as though he bore nothing but light and delight inside his skull.

"I _am_ human," he said. "And you _are_ a ghoul. But there is nothing separating us. We live in the same world, Touka. I know you. I know what ghouls do. I know what humans do. To me, there is no difference. It's all the same. We're all living, and we're all making the same mistakes."

"No," she said, "it's really not that simple."

His smile widened, and his eyes glowed. His expression was so _knowing_ that it seemed to taunt her. It sang in his flirty, lilting tone, _I know something you don't know_.

"Isn't it?" he asked.

She might scream, really, she might do it. He was infuriating.

But she let her head fall, bow like a beggar before a king, and all her thoughts were in a funnel. Isn't it? Isn't the world just one big clusterfuck? Ghouls and humans, humans and ghouls… they had the same capacity to feel. The same ability to make mistakes. The same curvy morality that made everything in this world so damn gray.

Except Hide. Hide seemed to see the world only in gold.

She hated him for that.

She _envied_ him for that.

She said, "What can I possibly do?"

He said, "There's only one world. Change it. Make it better."

She closed her eyes.

One world.

Zero separation. Just the pursuit of doing good.

Heroes had to take risks. Right?

"Will you keep watching Hinami and Ayato for me?"

He was quiet. She didn't want to look at him. She'd had enough sunshine for one day.

"Sure," he said. It was a light and airy reply. "But don't be gone too long."

She smiled.

* * *

Hide's head had rolled into his lap.

In the midst of the twitching flowers, the odor of decay stinging his nose, there was nothing quite so horrifying as finding your best friend's decapitated head suddenly in your possession.

Unseeing eyes winked.

"If all you know how to do is fail," bloody lips sang, "you'll only ever create a worse environment."

He opened to mouth to speak, but no words came out. The head laughed. It laughed like it was the end of the world.

"You know," the head said, "you know, you know, you know. This world is so wrong."

 _Wrong_ , the writhing spider lilies breathed, a sigh of a thousand taking their last breath. _Wrong, wrong, wrong._

He wanted to say that he knew, he knew, he knew, but he couldn't.

"You spent a whole other life wishing," the head said, Hide's voice coming out dull and bitter, "that you were dead. And then you died. And now you make the same mistakes."

 _Mistake,_ the flowers cried, _mistake, mistake_.

It wasn't true.

"Isn't it though?" The head smiled, and it laughed. "Let's die together this time, okay, Kaneki?"

He lifted the head up. He hurled it as far as he could.

Nobody was going to talk to him like that. Not even Hide.

He woke up, his heart in his throat, his face wet, and he wished that he could erase the dream from his mind. Why couldn't it be one of those dreams that instantly faded into the subconscious immediately upon waking?

Kaneki never got so lucky.

The worst part was, not all of it had been a dream. Before Hide's disembodied head had rolled into his lap, he distinctly remembered sinking his teeth into the sinewy flesh of Hide's bicep, muscle and veins gobbled up in no time at all. He could still taste the sickening sweetness of it. His one grand mistake.

His stomach growled.

His phone buzzed beside the couch he'd collapsed on after showering that morning.

Kaneki took one look at the caller ID, and he threw his phone across the room.

 _Hide,_ he thought, _Hide's too involved. Hide was barely involved last time, and I ate him! And I was so much stronger then!_

He remembered the revelation that he did not care how strong he was. It seemed half a lie, but he had to live with that lie now.

It took him a little while to get himself together. He washed his face in the kitchen sink, scrubbing it free of his tears and fears. Now he could figure out where to go next. He went into the fridge and pulled out a tupperware container filled to the brim with a deep red substance that looked either like sauce or some sort of super liquefied jelly. He poured it cold into a plastic cup he'd bought when they'd been decoration shopping. It was red and opaque and it had a lid and a straw. Kaneki assumed its primary function was to house homemade smoothies.

Well, now it was used to keep this meat juice from staining the glassware.

He put his plastic container back into the fridge, and began to sip absently at the CCG's Gourmet Ghoul Dietary Plan. It was really just disgusting. Kaneki didn't know what they'd made it out of, but it was obviously not prime cut human meat, that was for sure.

While he was sipping absently, the door to the apartment opened and closed suddenly. Kaneki cautiously poked his head out of the kitchen.

Both he and Shirazu froze, both of them wearing the same shocked expression.

Kaneki lowered the straw from his mouth. He moved to speak, but Shirazu was faster. He jerked his index finger at Kaneki's face.

"Brain smoothie!" he cried.

"What?" Kaneki looked down at his cup, and he frowned. "It's not—!" He couldn't even defend himself. He didn't actually know what this concoction was. It _could_ be brains for all he knew. "Hey, let's not get off topic. It's five pm! Where the hell have you been?"

"Runnin' a marathon," Shirazu said briskly.

Kaneki looked at him. His took a glance at his tired face, still stained with dirt and some flecks of blood from the raid. He was still wearing his CCG issued armor beneath the green coat.

"You didn't come home?" Kaneki blinked. He felt very suddenly like a really terrible parent. "What were you doing? Aren't you exhausted? Shirazu!"

"Kaneki!" Shirazu rolled his eyes and turned away. "You're not my dad, man, ya can't pretend you're worried about shit like that."

"I _am_ worried!"

"Ya weren't worried last night when ya were goin' off to find Mutsuki without me." Shirazu huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "And anyway, not my problem."

Kaneki stood, grasping his cup full of some kind of dead person, and he took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Shirazu, who had been halfway to his room, shot Kaneki a hopeful glance.

Kaneki felt the severity of his treatment of Shirazu truly hit him. This boy deserved more. This boy, who had done nothing but trust Kaneki implicitly, and had gotten nothing short of disinterest in return. Kaneki was ashamed.

"Yesterday…" Kaneki closed his eyes. "It was a lot. I'm sorry. All I wanted was to find Mutsuki as fast as possible, and I failed, and I treated you terribly anyway. I'm sorry I did that."

"Yeah?" Shirazu frowned. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and he continued to frown. "Well, y'know, I guess I'm sorry too. I mean, I _guess_." He scowled a bit, and shrugged his broad shoulders. "I was sorta being a brat about it. I get why ya went off to find Mutsuki. I wanna see him safe too, y'know?"

"I know," Kaneki said. "That's why it was so unfair to you. I was— I was so caught up in my own issues, I didn't think about how you were feeling. And then I disregarded your feelings again when I went to Anteiku—"

"Anteiku?" Shirazu looked curious. "Where Hide works?"

Kaneki smiled thinly. "Why don't you go shower," Kaneki said, taking a sip of his liquid dinner. "I'm going to try and explain everything to you. For real this time."

"For real?" Shirazu whistled. "Must be a miracle."

Kaneki offered a laugh, not wanting to admit how truly awful he'd been. Lies upon lies. He was growing weary of this game he played, pretending like he could stop fate all on his own.

How long could he avoid telling people that he was from the future? Surely the time would come when he had to admit it.

That day was not today, but while Shirazu showered, Kaneki couldn't help but consider it.

 _He'll just think I'm crazy_ , he thought. And that was the true reason he hadn't told a soul about his strange time travel situation. Ghouls, well, people could believe that they existed pretty easily. But time travel? Kaneki had no proof.

It would be nice if he could tell people. If he could warn Touka and Yoshimura about Anteiku, if he could ask Hide for forgiveness, if he could let Mutsuki know that he was not alone in this. But it wasn't realistic. People didn't just die and go back in time. It wouldn't fly by anyone's standards.

Kaneki was washing out his cup when Shirazu decided to plop down on the couch, his hair dripping and his expression curious. Kaneki set the cup aside and took a deep breath.

"So," he started, walking into the living room. "Where to begin…?"

"Start with this Touka chick." Shirazu's brow was raised. "I met her. She really made an impression on Mutsuki. _And_ Urie. Now that's a gal I wanna meet for real, y'know? Take out to dinner."

"I'm sure she'd love to have you for dinner."

Shirazu's brow furrowed. "Ha ha," he said. "Yes, very funny. But ya know what I mean, right?"

"Yes." Kaneki sat down across from him, and he smiled. "Touka has a way with people, I guess. Funny, since she doesn't really have the warmest personality."

"Is it because she's hot?"

"Not even." Kaneki blinked rapidly, trying to think back on his first impressions of Touka. To him, at first glance, she was nothing special. Not when put in the same room as Rize. She certainly had her charm— she was cute and had a sweet smile, but nothing that had made Kaneki feel like he couldn't breathe. Touka only had that effect after you got to know her. After you spent some time alone, and she let her emotions go bare for once.

"She's not hot?" Shirazu groaned. "Damn. Her voice made her sound— well, I was picturing someone hot."

"Touka is very cute, don't get me wrong," Kaneki said hurriedly. "But— I don't know. She's a lot more than that."

Shirazu simply stared at him. He said nothing more on the topic of Touka's looks, and opted to sit in silence while Kaneki tried to connect the reasoning behind it.

"Touka is basically a ghoul that I implanted in Aogiri, with the Director's consent, to give us information." Kaneki closed his eyes. "She was the one who freed Mutsuki."

"And… ya trust her?"

"Of course," Kaneki said. "I'd trust her with my life."

"Huh." Shirazu had a look about him that suggested he wasn't exactly convinced. "Encouraging. Well, Mutsuki looked just about ready to kill for her, so I guess I'll buy it."

"Did he?" Kaneki had to admit to himself that he was worried. In all his time with Mutsuki, he'd concerned himself over the idea that one day Mutsuki would become even more like Kaneki than he already was. That meant the jaded, violent creature that had crawled out of weeks worth of torture with nothing but a fragile disposition and a death wish.

"So this is all… CCG authorized?" Shirazu waved his hands vigorously. "Like, you managed to get someone upstairs to agree to working with a ghoul for this?"

"Yes." Kaneki smiled at his disbelief. "I know, it's strange. Not many people know about her— truth be told, only Washuu Yoshitoki knows the full extent of this project. Everyone else just knows Touka's mask, and not to hurt her if they see her."

"That's incredible."

"It's a work in progress."

Shirazu nodded slowly. It seemed now he was more convinced of Touka's importance and loyalty, knowing that a Washuu was backing all of it.

"So… this is what you've been up to," Shirazu said cautiously, as though he was piecing it together in his head. "All along. Ya just… what _is_ your goal? Turning people into half-ghouls, enlisting ghouls as investigators, destroying the CCG… what?"

"None of that," Kaneki said weakly. "I hate the idea of making more half-ghouls. I was vehemently opposed to the Quinx project to begin with, but it went underway almost immediately once the CCG had me locked up and docile. Have I told you about that? Well, I've been in Cochlea a time or two, mostly just for existing."

"Yikes."

"Yeah, it's a rough life."

Shirazu laughed at that. "Well… what about this Anteiku place?" he asked curiously. "I know Hide works there, and those ghouls you were with last night work there, and Hide is… a ghoul…?"

"Hide is human." Kaneki smiled amusedly as Shirazu flung his hands into the air in exasperation. "Hinami is a ghoul. She lives at Anteiku because the CCG killed her parents. She can't get food on her own— even if she was strong enough, she doesn't have the stomach for it."

"Oh." That seemed to shock Shirazu. As if he'd never thought of ghouls as people with consciences. "But… for real, man. What's your goal?"

"I just… want to protect the people I care about." When Shirazu frowned, Kaneki realized just how poorly he'd tending to that task. "I make a lot of mistakes. I _am_ human, after all. I think I know something, but I can't predict how a situation will play out in the end."

"How does all this business with Touka protect _anyone_?" Shirazu scoffed. "Ya obviously care about her, but she kinda got fucked in the end, right? Who wants to be with Aogiri?"

"You're not wrong…" Kaneki winced, his guilt becoming overwhelming. He had not even seen Touka since the night Mutsuki had been kidnapped. It felt like so much longer. There would have to be a confrontation between them sooner or later about where to go from here. He imagined Washuu would want her to keep spying on Aogiri, so long as her cover wasn't too compromised. He hated that idea.

"So?" Shirazu demanded. "What is it? Why'd ya put your friend in danger just for some half-baked scheme? Sounds pretty damn stupid, Kanekun."

"The spy idea was mine," Kaneki said with a sigh, "but I never wanted it to be Touka. Unfortunately, I didn't account for her stubbornness, or the fact that her brother was roped into the inner workings of Aogiri."

"Brother," Shirazu repeated, his voice very soft and very slow. Kaneki saw this dawn on him, stretch like a shadow over his eyes and made him dazed.

"He got hurt," Kaneki recalled, the wave of guilt from the previous night falling over him. Guilt, guilt, guilt. He would never not be guilty, it seemed. "I wonder if she blames me for that."

Shirazu was very quiet. The silence stretched between them, but it was not awkward in any sense.

"I'd like to meet her," Shirazu said.

"You technically already have."

"For _real_ ," Shirazu laughed, "not when I'm trying to kill her!"

Kaneki couldn't help but think it was a strange conversation to have. The sudden changes of heart, the whim of a boy to say he wanted to be friends with a girl he'd been trying to kill not even twenty four hours beforehand. It was truly the gift of youth to be so easily swayed. Kaneki didn't think he was anything like that.

"Right…" Kaneki allowed himself a small laugh, though he couldn't help the swell of discomfort at the thought that Shirazu might have hurt Touka simply because Kaneki had withheld information.

Wow. Communication was a real wonder, huh? Who would have thought?

Kaneki wanted to bash his head against a wall for being so stupidly secretive. No more.

"And Mutsuki… did he know all of this?" Shirazu asked after getting his good laugh in. When Kaneki nodded, Shirazu whistled low. "Damn. Were ya ever gonna tell me?"

"Of course," Kaneki said, taken aback. "I… I mean, we haven't exactly known each other for very long, Shirazu. Mutsuki found out because Touka ended up breaking into our apartment one night, and I had to play peacemaker because she was pissed about the quinx thing, _and_ she wanted to be the spy. She's really a lot to handle, and poor Mutsuki— from personal experience, being on the wrong end of Touka's anger is absolutely terrifying."

"And yet," Shirazu said glumly, "he was gonna betray us for her."

"Betray us?" Kaneki said with the type of precision that made Shirazu jump. "Or betray the CCG?"

"Is there a difference?" Shirazu asked weakly.

"You know there is."

Shirazu stared at him with large eyes, as though he didn't quite know how to handle that knowledge. But he lowered his head, and Kaneki saw a brief flicker of a smirk stretch on his lips.

On the floor between them, Kaneki's cell phone rang.

"Why is that on the floor?" Shirazu asked, pointing to it amusedly.

And to think, Kaneki had forgotten about the nightmare where he'd relived eating Hide. For a little while.

He stood up and scooped the phone up from the floor. He didn't bother checking the Caller ID this time. He knew who was calling.

"Hello?" He watched Shirazu, and Shirazu watched back. _Guilt,_ his mind sang to him.

" _Oh,_ " Hide said breathlessly on the other line, " _hey, my man, finally answering, huh? Did you look at any of my texts? Emails?_ "

"Uhh…" Kaneki scratched his head sheepishly. "No?"

" _No surprise there_." Hide didn't sound particularly mad, but he did sound very out of breath, like he'd been running. " _Okay, listen, meet me at my apartment. We've got some shit to discuss, and I'd rather it be in person._ "

"That doesn't sound good…"

" _You're not in trouble, dummy,_ " Hide laughed. " _But you really need to talk to Mutsuki about his future, because he may or may not be considering diving head first into the ghoul underground, you and I both know that's a nasty place to be._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quidni.  
> why not?


	35. juvenor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for discussion of gender dysphoria.
> 
> this story has been going on awhile (lmao don't talk to me about the word count im losing my mind), and i think the most consistent compliment i've gotten is that i write a really good hide. i've kinda sidelined him, but i think he'll probably have a more consistent role from here on out? note the question mark because i'm at the point in the story where i have nothing else planned but the ending, so. this will be an adventure. i almost want to start reading the manga again just for a little shred of inspiration. but im not that desperate yet lmao.
> 
> anyway! enjoy!

Mutsuki had never had an argument like this in his life.

Well— okay. He needed to assess the situation fairly.

Mutsuki had never had the passion, vindication, or outright rebellious _hunger_ to argue like this in his life.

"I don't want to be a tool for the CCG," he told Hide, for what felt like the fifteenth time today alone. "I don't want to be a ghoul either, but if I have to be a ghoul to separate myself from them, then so be it."

"Mutsuki," Hide said very carefully. Mutsuki eyed him with disinterest. This was a man who, if Mutsuki had to guess, had never experienced true pain, but had witnessed it. He was boyish in a way that made Mutsuki wonder what sort of childhood he'd had. Boyish out of necessity, or boyish out of defense, or boyish out of longing. To be boyish was to have no care in the world. Mutsuki had never been boyish. Not in that sense, at the very least. "I know that you went through a lot, but blaming the CCG—"

"You're misunderstanding."

"You're not giving me a clear explanation, bud."

He didn't know how long they'd been talking. Arguing. Well, it had begun as a conversation and grown into an argument. There had been breaks in between. Mutsuki had been watching a movie when Hide had come home. They had finished the movie together. Then they had gotten to talking. Then they had gotten to arguing. They had taken a break for Mutsuki to eat (which had been awful), and then another break for Hide to eat (which Mutsuki had decidedly exited the apartment for, because he didn't want to see someone eat something he could never have again).

Now he sat on Hide's windowsill, feet bare against the wood, knees tucked to chest. He didn't know how to process the feelings he had right now. He didn't know if the feelings he had even had proper names to them.

It was almost like dysphoria. The discomfort that toiled within him. He supposed he could associate the two, if he had the time to assess how each felt, but he didn't. He knew they weren't identical experiences. Both feelings originated in the pit of his stomach, and sent his brain ugly little messages in no language discernible by man. It was the pain of existence, probably, or existing in a way that wasn't sufficient for living. But he lived on.

No. This was not dysphoria. It was something more than that, but not necessarily something worse. It was feeling that he had to start making choices, like there was a sudden urgency to every act he would ever take from now until he stopped breathing. It was knowing that fundamentally he'd changed, but that he would never be able to undo himself.

To undo.

To undo _himself_.

Right. At his most dysphoric, that was the utmost desire. Not to change himself, but to _undo_ himself. To unravel the body he had and let his soul fall free of tethers. This was not dysphoria. He had no particular inclination toward shedding his skin. Instead of an uneasy twisting, like worms eating at his guts and writhing through his inner organs, it was a fitful burning, like a witch tied to a stake and shrieking with mad laughter as she burned away.

Cold disgust versus warm disgust.

He may have been born in the winter, but he was no stranger to the sun. He'd rather this hot prick of disgust that seemed to boil his blood. Disgust which led to anger which led to whatever the hell his future was. That was so much better than disgust that led to loathing which led to sinking into a cold sea of self-hatred.

Mutsuki closed his eyes. He rested his back against the window pane, and he offered the sort of shrug that caused Hide to huff in response.

"You can't just _leave_ ," Hide sighed. "There are people who care about you— there are people _you_ care about still working for the CCG!"

"Yes," Mutsuki said calmly, "and I won't stop caring about them even if I, you know, disappear from the CCG's radar."

"But why?" Hide kept pressing this particular question. The insistence of it was chiseling away at Mutsuki's resolve. "Don't get me wrong, the CCG isn't the paradigm of good deeds by any means, but not everything they do is bad! You of all people should know that."

"Me of all people," Mutsuki repeated dully, resting his forehead against the cool window glass.

Hide seemed to sense that he'd said something wrong, and Mutsuki appreciated that. "You went to a junior academy," Hide said in that slow voice of caution. "I'm sorry. I made an assumption."

"That my family was killed by ghouls," Mutsuki said.

Hide watched him, lifting his eyes and his head and even his lips so that he betrayed the barest hints of a smile. "Was I wrong?" he asked sheepishly.

Mutsuki found himself echoing that smile, glancing at Hide while his head lifted ever so slightly.

"No," he said.

They both smiled. Mutsuki didn't really know if he was smiling because Hide had no idea what kind of horrors peppered Mutsuki's past, or if he was smiling because Hide was smiling, and that was a comfort.

Mutsuki didn't know. Period.

A knock at the door caused Mutsuki to jerk upright, a foot dangling precariously off the side of the windowsill. He had one hand braced against the glass, realizing quickly that his instincts were leaning more towards flight than fight nowadays.

Hide didn't look particularly surprised, which caused Mutsuki to relax a bit. When he opened the door, Mutsuki found himself slumping in resignation, turning his face away sharply when Kaneki Ken became visible outside the door.

"Mutsuki!"

It was probably the most unbridled emotion Mutsuki had ever heard escape Kaneki's lips. His voice broke, like a levy holding back a flood, and suddenly everything was pouring out and overflowing, saturating this whole room with relief and awe and some bare form of terror. Mutsuki shrunk against the wood at his back, pressing his lips together thinly.

Hide stepped aside and allowed Kaneki to burst into the room with all the fresh determination one would expect. He swept in without thought, navigating his surroundings with the surety of someone who might have lived in this room in a past life. And then he stopped a meter away, halting like he'd bumped up against a wall and himself simply unable to continue.

Kaneki's eyes were not particularly large or particularly shocked, but they did flit restlessly over Mutsuki, drinking in the sight of him like he was the last thing Kaneki would ever see. It might have been troubling if it was someone else, but Mutsuki found it difficult to imagine Kaneki had any ulterior motive in staring. This was something Mutsuki had been preparing for.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki said. He looked at Mutsuki, and then down at the floor. Mutsuki closed his eyes and tucked his arms beneath his knees.

"Come closer," he sighed, "if you want."

Kaneki seemed relieved to shuffled into the space beside the window. Without warning, he knelt. If it were another time, Mutsuki might have supposed that Kaneki was just trying to get to his level, but the window was high enough that it wasn't necessary.

Kaneki was lowering himself.

Mutsuki raised his head, eying Kaneki's bowed head bemusedly. He wasn't about to object, but there was ample shock to watching Kaneki kneel like this.

"Let me say it again." Kaneki's voice was small and distant, as though it was being carried from kilometers away by a stray wind. "I'm _sorry_ , Mutsuki. What happened to you… what you went through is something unbearable. I don't expect you to be fine, or to forgive me for what happened, but I want you to know that I understand. I won't judge you, regardless of what you decide tonight."

"You know," Hide said in a light, joking tone, "I didn't call you here to convince him to run off to ghoul town, Kaneki."

"If I were in Mutsuki's place," Kaneki said without lifting his head, his voice carrying the sort of somber finality of a doctor declaring someone's time of death, "I would do the same thing."

"That doesn't make it any smarter."

Mutsuki stayed silent. He observed Kaneki, from his unkempt attire to his unruly hair, and he wondered what kind of week he'd had. There must have been enough sleepless nights between the two of them to kill a man.

"You don't even know what happened to me," Mutsuki said quietly. Kaneki stiffened, jerking a bit as though he'd received a great shock of static. Mutsuki tilted his head. "I don't plan on telling you, either. If it's all the same to you guys, I'd like to put what happened to me aside and talk about the future. My future. I don't see it going anywhere within the CCG."

Kaneki raised his head at this. He didn't object, but a curious look did pass his features, his brow knitting confusedly.

"Are ya seriously gonna go rogue, Tooru?" Shirazu blurted. Mutsuki twisted to look at him, stunned that he had spoken. If he had to be honest, he hadn't even noticed Shirazu's presence until this very moment. That hurt. He cared about Shirazu a lot, and unlike last night, Mutsuki found himself tapping into those old feelings. Familiar pangs of belonging and comfort resonated deep in his heart when he saw Shirazu's long, angular face.

"I…" Mutsuki felt like he suddenly couldn't respond with the absolute truth. Like Shirazu being here suddenly made it all so much more complicated. Mutsuki could run away— he could run from the CCG, and he could run from Kaneki, but running from Shirazu was different. What would prevent Shirazu from looking at this action as abandonment? "I don't know. I really don't."

"That's not very encouraging," Shirazu huffed

" _Right_?" Hide shook his head. "I've been trying to sort this out for hours. Mutsuki keeps twisting my words around!"

"Impressive," Kaneki remarked. It took all Mutsuki had to not smile contentedly at the praise.

"Well it's not like I have an easy defendant," Hide said with a huff similar to Shirazu's. "The CCG is pretty fucked up. We all know it."

Nobody in the room said anything, but there was a silent agreement in the air. Even Shirazu's eyes lowered with resignation at this fact.

" _However_ ," Hide continued, smacking a closed fist into his palm pointedly, "the CCG is at the very least an organized system for keeping ghouls in check. I'm not saying it's a good system, but it was born out of necessity."

"Necessity," Mutsuki repeated. He'd raised his eyes to Hide sharply. "So it was necessity that killed Touka's father? Hinami's mother? And what about Kirishima Ayato?"

Hide watched him. Mutsuki was used to his simple reactions by now— he'd been using soft smiles and averted glances for a while now. Hide refused to show any negative emotion around Mutsuki.

"Like I said," Hide said calmly, "not a good system. But like, you can't just leave ghouls to do whatever they want. No offense, guys."

"You can't blame ghouls for existing, Hide," Kaneki said very slowly, rising to his feet and shooting his friend a disbelieving look.

"That's not what I'm doing." Hide blinked, and then he laughed. "Both of you! Putting words in my mouth! It's amazing, really, how similar you are!"

"I can't consciously work for an organization built solely on the genocide of a misunderstood people who have a sense of morality." Mutsuki shook his head. "I don't want to be part of this anymore."

"Wow. Throwin' around the word genocide, huh? That's a pretty serious claim. Listen, you can't just walk away from it, buddy," Shirazu uttered, starting forward but careful not to get too close. "The CCG— won't they just hunt you down like any other ghoul?"

"I thought about that." Mutsuki sighed, and he stretched his legs over the side of the windowsill, pushing off from it sharply. "I figure if the punishment for deserting the CCG is death, then my reasons for wanting to leave would be justified."

"Where will you go?" Hide asked sharply. "What will you do? Who will you help? Not all ghouls are good, Mutsuki, you must know that."

"I'm very aware of that, Hide," Mutsuki said glumly, "thank you for that assessment."

"Hide's right though," Shirazu gasped, his eyes widening as he searched Mutsuki's face for some kind of answer for this change of heart. "How can any of this make sense to ya? You're not a ghoul!"

"Yes," Mutsuki said, his eyes flashing coolly to Shirazu's face, "I am. Unfortunately. It's not the best thing that's ever happened to me, but it's definitely not the worst. I can live with being a ghoul. What I _can't_ live with is being complicit in the type of violence the CCG inflicts upon ghouls."

"Ghouls aren't fundamentally good, Mutsuki," Hide said gently.

"Neither are humans," Mutsuki responded.

Kaneki exhaled sharply. He stepped between Hide and Mutsuki, lowering his chin as he stared Mutsuki dead in the eyes.

"Running away may be the simplest solution," he said solemnly, "but it isn't always the best."

Mutsuki didn't deny that what he wanted to do was essentially running away, and instead met Kaneki's gaze, his blackened fingernails digging into his palms.

"Didn't you say you'd support me," Mutsuki murmured, "regardless of my decision here?"

"I will," Kaneki said. "I don't have to agree with you to support you."

"That's some weird logic."

"The CCG needs to be put in check," Kaneki said firmly, his eyes following Mutsuki as his feet guided him around Kaneki with a bowed head and a heavy heart. "We all know that! But what has been done can't be undone! If we want to change the CCG, we can't run away from it! Mutsuki, I understand. I understand more than you can possibly know, and if you really do walk away from us— from the Quinx, from the CCG— I won't blame you. But in my opinion you can do more good with us in the CCG than by yourself, alone and on the run."

"What _good_ can we do?" Mutsuki asked him sharply. "Can we protect Touka? Can we keep both the CCG and ghouls from making more orphans in the world? Can we find a way to create a society where ghouls can live alongside humans? If that was possible, don't you think it would have been done already?"

"Of course not," Hide laughed, an easy laugh the bubbled up through the tension, rising above them and bursting suddenly. "The CCG was founded to essentially keep monsters at bay. There was no face to the enemy then, just the knowledge that it existed. They were more like hunters than investigators, and hunters don't give their prey a fair trial before they kill them. The circumstances have changed, obviously, in the years since its inception— I mean, nobody expected the CCG to become this integral to the government or for ghouls to be beaten back so far. It's easier to tell a ghoul from a human now than it ever has been in the history of the world. The CCG is powerful. They don't want to change their ways, because they're rooted in tradition."

"No surprise there," Shirazu muttered, a little dismissively. "That generation's so keen on holding on to tradition, but the world's changing, ain't it? We're a little wiser than them."

"Not wiser," Hide said, looking at Shirazu thoughtfully. "Wisdom comes with experience. We can't be wiser than our parents, but we _can_ be more open-minded than them. To be young is to be willing to change."

"What are you saying?" Mutsuki asked Hide cautiously. "I don't understand. I don't care about the CCG's history. Only its future."

"The only way anything is going to change is if more people like you," Hide said, pointing to Mutsuki's chest, "decide to change the system. From the inside."

"I don't want to _change_ the system," Mutsuki told Hide coldly. "I want to dismantle it."

"Because it's wrong," Hide said with a helpful little push in his voice. "Because it hurts people just as much as it helps. Because it killed Touka's mom and dad. Made them into weapons. Made _you_ into a weapon. Yes, Mutsuki. It's awful. But ghouls eat people. They butcher and devour people every day, and that's just how it is. We can't change _that_. We can't dismantle _that_. You can't rewrite the code of an entire species."

"Unless you're the CCG," Mutsuki spat.

Kaneki winced. Shirazu was left to stare at his hands, puzzling over Mutsuki's words and raising his eyes doubtfully.

"Ghouls were the ones who hurt you," Hide said, tilting his head innocently. "I'm still a little amazed how stubborn you are about this. The CCG came to rescue you."

"And they failed." Mutsuki felt this in his heart, the truth of the matter. The only people who'd cared about saving him were Kaneki, Shirazu, and Amon. No one else even knew him. "Touka and Ayato saved me. I owe them more than I owe the CCG. What has the CCG ever done for me?"

Hide didn't answer, though Mutsuki was sure by his expression that it wasn't because he didn't have one. It was because he chose not to speak now. He chose to give Mutsuki time to think about what he was saying.

That wasn't fair.

"Ayato was also the one who kidnapped you," Kaneki argued in a very level tone. He seemed to want to be practical about this. Mutsuki wasn't feeling up for practicality right now. "Whatever is driving you to do this, it's not solely hatred of the CCG or even your love of ghouls. Mutsuki, you're running away from your problems."

Mutsuki exhaled sharply. Kaneki's words weren't a slap in the face— they were hardly even a slap on the wrist. That didn't make them any easier to hear, even as they rung and rung inside his ears and mocked him for his weakness.

"Give me a reason to stay," Mutsuki said, his voice tipping precariously on the edge of despair. He raised his eyes to Kaneki's imploringly. "Give me a reason, Kaneki, and I will."

If Kaneki was shocked, he didn't betray it. In fact, he met Mutsuki's gaze with the sort of resilience and understanding of a man who had seen and known and felt too much. He looked suddenly much older than he was. He was a man and he was the patches of yellowing grass that grew over old graves.

"I don't suppose," Kaneki said, "that saying I don't want you to leave would be enough?"

Mutsuki found that his voice had caught in his throat, painfully wedged between the small space left. He took a breath, feeling the sting of it as it caught just as well as his voice. He turned his face away.

"I don't know," Mutsuki whispered. "Would it?"

Kaneki peered at his face. He took a step forward, and when Mutsuki made no move to step back, he took another. And then another. He stepped until there were no more steps to take. Mutsuki's face was in his hands, and no matter how much he wanted to tear it out of his grip, he was frozen.

Kaneki gently turned Mutsuki's face back to his. Mutsuki blinked, tears clinging to the inner rim of his lashes.

"You can run away whenever you'd like," Kaneki told him, "but you only have this one chance to choose to stay."

Mutsuki stared at him.

To be in charge of his own future… to choose to stay… to choose to go…

It would never be so easy or so simple as Mutsuki wanted it to be.

* * *

The soft, iridescent glow of mid-morning sun brought her to the land of the waking. She curled into her futon, her blanket bundling against her chin as she peered up through the blinding white sunrays and watched snowflakes smash themselves against the window like bridge jumpers splattering on asphalt.

She had spent the last twenty four hours or so in exile. All her belongings were trapped inside the apartment next door, while she found herself locked outside. Nobody had told her to. It was just what was right.

Today was a new day, though. She couldn't live on the fringes of the Kirishima's lives forever. She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes with the heels of her hands.

Today was a new day. That didn't mean that any of them were new people, though.

 _Good morning, cactus,_ she thought to the row of plotted succulents dotting the windowsill. _Good morning, Not A Flower. Good morning, Green Octopus._

She touched the cactus's pot, and a shiver ran through her. She carefully relocated the plants so they were out of the icy window draft's warpath.

Hinami tiptoed back to the apartment. The door was unlocked, so she thought it must be somewhat safe to enter. It was a basic assumption, and not even the swell of anxiety that filled her could stop her curiosity. Wanting to know a thing or two about Ayato took top priority.

A huge burst of joy flowed through her heart when she spotted a neatly folded pair of clothes sitting on the table. Those were her clothes. Touka must have been expecting Hinami to return, even though Hinami had been actively avoiding the apartment. She smiled contentedly, scooping up the pile and going to the bathroom to change.

Seeing her reflection did dampen her otherwise optimistic mood, admittedly. She had stripped out of the oversized shirt and shorts, pulling a pale cotton dress over her head before peeking into the mirror. Tufts of black hair poked out unevenly from the high collar. Her eyes were tired and somewhat bleak as they lingered on her own muted features.

The more time that went by, the more she felt like a remnant of a long forgotten age. Like her world was moving forward while she was moving backward, and while technology sped up, she was slowing down. The world was in three dimensional space, but she existed only on a muted black and white screen. Even her words were something unreal, blocks of text blinking into her mind and falling from her tongue.

She yanked the collar over her nose and chin, tossing her hair out from beneath it.

She was monochrome. Dark eyes, dark hair, light skin, light dress. She looked blanched and out of place.

 _It's easy to look out of place,_ she told herself _, when the world has changed without your permission_.

The world, or her world?

She couldn't say for sure. She didn't think she wanted to.

Quietly, she exited the bathroom and pushed away all those negative thoughts. Thinking of herself and her own discomfort at a time like this was purely selfish. Ayato was hurting, Touka was hurting, and Hinami didn't even want to think about poor Mutsuki. The sight of his sallow face collapsed against the entryway— it was horrifying.

Hinami had seen enough horror to last her several lifetimes, thank you!

To keep her mind off things, she decided to read. When her mind proved too cluttered to focus, she continued to stare at the page. It was only when she realized that she'd been reading the same paragraph over and over for an amount of time that eluded her that she understood how useless it was. She couldn't properly digest the words. They were just little strokes on a page. Her head was filled with thoughts of names and voices of people who she'd never see again.

She snapped the book shut and hastily set it on the table, pulling her legs up onto the chair and pressing her face into her knees. Her feet nestled into the hem of her dress.

Ah. So she was restless.

It had been a long time since she'd had this feeling. Like she was a caged bird, and her wings were aching with the understanding that with no space to fly, they would unlearn the natural instinct.

She shot a curious look over at Loser.

"You understand," she murmured, rising to her feet and striding to the bird's cage. She thumbed the metal ribs, allowing the bird to nip at the meat of her fingers. "Do you want to leave?"

"Loser," Loser said.

"Touka didn't even notice you," Hinami murmured. "Guess there's been so much on her mind, she forgot she hates birds."

"Loser," Loser squawked, his fluffy yellow head bobbing up and down like an accordion's respiration. She let herself laugh, something bright and happy that didn't seem to belong to her, but escaped her regardless. She continued to pet the bird with the tips of her fingers and the edge of her knuckles.

"Loser," Hinami cooed. She rubbed her knuckle against the bird's head. "Loser, loser."

The bird shook its feathers, its beak chattering softly, cooing back at her contentedly.

The floorboards creaked, a sound that was so unbelievably close that it momentarily took her breath away. She whirled around, shrinking back against the desk that Loser's cage sat on. Her whole body was tense as her eyes flickered from the bare, bony feet that had frozen mid-step against the wooden floor to the tangle of dark hair that framed a pallid face.

Neither of them spoke.

She imagined that her face was betraying all her alarm and fear and fresh burn of embarrassment, which this boy was drinking in with a furrowed brow and a tightened jaw.

"H—" Hinami's voice was shrill as she stammered. "Hello!"

The last time she had seen this boy, he'd been naked in a bathtub, and neither of them had forgotten it so soon.

His brow only furrowed further.

"Mean," he remarked.

Hinami swallowed very hard, her spine digging against the edge of the desk. "Sorry?" she asked, her voice no better than before as she peered at him curiously.

"You were calling it a loser."

Hinami followed the boy's gaze. They both stared at Loser, while the bird merely twittered, its neck extending to cock its head at them.

"Oh," Hinami said, laughing a little breathlessly, "oh, that's just its name! Here." She reached toward Loser's cage and reached to undo the latch.

Ayato looked skeptical as she maneuvered Loser onto her hand. He took a sharp step back when she offered the bird to him.

"What?" Hinami blinked at him. She didn't get a chance to ask what she'd meant to ask, because he thrust out his hands. She deposited Loser into them.

"Loser," the bird croaked at Ayato, steadying itself on the knuckle of Ayato's forefinger. Ayato scowled at it.

"You keep this unpleasant thing as a pet?" He wrinkled his nose. "It smells."

Hinami frowned. If she were Touka, she would retort, _So do you_. It was what she was thinking. But she didn't want to be mean to him.

"Yes, well, Loser is a bird," she muttered. "Animals tend to smell. Give him back." She thrust her hands out. Then she paused to consider how rude she sounded, and she exhaled sharply. "Please."

Ayato didn't look her in the eye. He merely handed Loser back to her obediently.

"Thank you," she said, turning away from him sharply to let Loser hop back into his cage. She poured more food into his bowl, keenly aware of Ayato's eyes on her back. "How are you feeling?"

"Are you talking to me?"

Hinami couldn't help but smile, shooting him a quizzical look over her shoulder. "Who else would I be talking to?"

"Your dumb bird."

"Oh, _now_ who's being mean?" Hinami closed the cage door and face him. "How do you know he's my bird?"

"Because Touka hates birds," Ayato said flatly. "Duh."

Hinami smiled, and Ayato frowned. He stared at her, and she noted how tired his eyes looked. They were glassy and unfocused, like he had a fever or something.

"True," she said. She tilted her head. "You look like her."

He bristled. He turned away sharply. "I'm her brother," he snapped. "I can't help shit like that."

"It wasn't an insult," she gasped, pushing off the desk and starting toward him. "H-hey! Ayato, do you want to play a game?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, and he looked down at her vacantly. "Games are for children," he told her coolly. Without another word he disappeared back into Touka's room.

The door slammed shut.

Hinami didn't want to feel bad about it— she'd prepared herself for meeting Ayato, and she had imagined it going something like this. More yelling, maybe. And Touka had been there, in her imagination, so even _more_ yelling than that. This hadn't gone necessarily bad, just awkward. That didn't make it any easier.

She exhaled sharply, shooting a frustrated glance at the closed door. That was _her_ room too!

Not that it mattered now. He needed it more than she did.

If Touka were here, this would have gone differently. Not better, necessarily, but differently. Hinami closed her eyes and fell against the soft cushions of the couch. Where _was_ Touka, anyway?

Hinami sat up suddenly, looking around the room in a frantic search. Obviously she wasn't in the apartment, but surely she left some sort of clue about where she'd gone.

Then again, it was Touka. The likelihood that she'd planned ahead was slim.

Something about the silence here made her anxious. She twisted in her seat to look back at the door that Ayato had slammed, and she considered for a few precious moments just asking him where she'd gone. But Hinami wasn't one to pry, and she already felt that she'd hurt her chances at being his friend today. Barging into the room wouldn't be the wisest decision right now.

So Hinami got up and left the apartment quietly, walking downstairs where she hoped she might get a clue about Touka. In truth, Hinami was worried that her big sis had run off again. As smart as Touka could be, she was a slave to her own impulses. What she thought was right was right, irrefutably, and nobody knew that better than Hinami.

She might have argued. If Touka were any other person, she might have screamed and cried and begged her to stay.

But nobody could make Kirishima Touka do anything. Hinami could only count herself blessed to be in her good graces.

"Oh!" Irimi's dark eyes flitted toward her, and then whisked around the café quickly. She seemed to deem this crowd worthy of Hinami's presence, for she ushered Hinami out the door, picked her up, and plopped her on the counter. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No," Hinami said, shaking her head quickly. "Thank you, but no. Irimi, do you know where Touka is?"

Irimi glanced at her. She looked puzzled as she shook her head mutely. Hinami found herself deflating, her shoulders sagging as she imagined all the awful possibilities that she could conjure to her mind.

"Nagachika," Irimi called over her shoulder. "Have you seen Touka?"

"Big bro is here?" Hinami eagerly twisted her body, her neck stretching to peer into the kitchen through the half-open door. Hide's unruly hair appeared first, and then his curious face. "Big brother!"

"Hina!" Hide beamed at her, striding out of the kitchen and swiping her cheek gingerly with dusty hands. She realized his fingers were coated with flour. "Wow, what a pretty dress! I'm gonna have to start working out so I can fight off the boys who will kill themselves trying to win your favor!"

Hinami laughed, partly because the idea was so ludicrous and partly because Hide had a rolling pin, and was batting at the air with it like it was a sword that he could parry. "Stop," Hinami giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully. "I don't need any more boys in my life. I've got plenty, I think."

"A wise decision."

"But for real," Hinami gasped. "Where's Touka?"

"Uhh…" Hide blinked, and he leaned back. He exchanged a meaningful look with Irimi, and he smiled at Hinami gently. "Probably out doing Touka stuff. You know how she is."

Hinami responded with only silence. She watched him, and he watched back, and she felt she understood something here.

She turned her face away sharply.

"I'm going for a walk," she declared, pushing off the counter and striding toward the door.

"Hinami—!" Irimi called sharply, a warning dripping in her voice. She was cut off sharply as Hinami let the door swing shut behind her. The icy sidewalk nipped at her bare toes. Swirls of snowflakes caught on her lashes as she pushed off the stoop and walked blindly into the street.

* * *

"So he's okay, then?"

Kaneki shared a look with Shirazu, who had been leaning against the rail of the upper level of the 20th Ward's headquarters. He wasn't dressed in what anyone would call business appropriate clothing— he was wearing olive green coveralls that looked like they'd seen a war or two, and over that he wore a white coat with the collar popped. It was like binding a phone book in leather without painting over the yellow pages. Shirazu didn't belong, and he didn't seem to _want_ to belong either.

"He's… alive." Kaneki glanced away from Amon sharply, turning his face toward the entrance of the CCG, which could be seen from the upper level. "Right now he's at the First Branch, getting a psych eval."

Amon didn't look particularly surprised about that. In fact, his face betrayed his somber agreement. Kaneki knew that he and Shirazu had had a run in with Mutsuki and Touka, but he didn't know exactly what had happened. Only that Amon was trying to puzzle out the importance of the ghoul in the moon mask, and Mutsuki's connection to her.

"Do you think he'll pass?" Amon asked quietly.

Kaneki didn't even have faith in himself to pass a psych evaluation. If it _were_ him, he'd say no. Mutsuki wouldn't pass. But Mutsuki and Kaneki were different on fundamental levels. For all he knew, it was possible he'd come out of Yamori's torture sessions with his mind intact.

"I think," Kaneki said, "that I'm surprised the CCG offers psych evaluations."

"It's not required."

"It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out, Amon."

Amon frowned at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply.

Kaneki folded his arms across his chest, and he glanced up at the man. "You guys hired me without even doing a background check," Kaneki said simply. "Anyone can be an investigator. Even a ghoul."

Shirazu made a noise, something like a snort and a cough, and Amon glanced at him. "Something to add," he asked, his tone still tense, "Shirazu?"

"No, sir."

"Anyway, Mutsuki requested the psych eval," Kaneki said, resting his elbows against the railing and tipping his head back. "He said that if he's going to come back to the CCG, he wants to be sure that he won't hurt anyone."

"I heard his RC levels spiked tremendously," Amon murmured, looking a bit remorseful now that the conversation was back on Mutsuki. "Is that dangerous? I'm not sure how this quinx thing works, and he obviously hasn't seen a doctor yet. _Should_ he see a doctor?" Amon shook his head. "We still don't know what exactly happened to him."

"I know what happened to him," Kaneki said darkly. Shirazu looked at him, and with that piercing glance Kaneki realized his mistake. Shirazu didn't speak up though, acutely aware of Amon's presence, so instead his eyes simply narrowed inquisitively.

Amon was watching him with great interest, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth pulled into a parted frown. "Kaneki," Amon said quietly, taking him by the shoulder. He nearly jerked back in alarm, but when he looked into Amon's eyes, he saw sincere worry. It calmed him. "We did our best. What happened to him is not your fault."

Kaneki closed his eyes. On the back of his eyelids, he could see red, and through the red, he saw Yamori's mask floating eerily above him. Numbers floated like ash through a body of water.

"Everything that's happened until now is my fault," he murmured.

"Bullshit," Shirazu spat.

"The truth." Kaneki cracked open an eye, and he smiled at Shirazu apologetically. "It would have been better for everyone involved if I had just—"

" _Kaneki_." Amon snatched his other shoulder and shook him boldly. It was a hard shake, causing his head to rattle and his breath to catch. "You can't control what fate deals you! Nobody here blames you for what happened, so why should you blame yourself?"

His words rung in Kaneki's brain, bouncing off the surface of his subconscious and skittering around noisily. They didn't understand— well, of course they didn't understand! Kaneki was closed off, aloof, antagonistic, and cruel! Kaneki had become the person he hated yet _again_ , and he hadn't even been tortured this time! And the truth was, he was so tired of pretending like he wasn't at fault. He was the one who had gone to the CCG, let them take the secrets of creating a half ghoul from him, let Aogiri have Touka, let this all repeat in a mirror image sort of way.

Of course it was all his fault. Nothing anyone said would make it any different.

 _Tell them_ , said a small voice inside his head, something weak and disgraced, something simultaneously old and young. _Tell them who you are, where you came from. Tell them what you've done. Tell them what you've seen. Tell them who you've killed. Tell them that time stands still for no man_.

Kaneki turned his face away sharply.

"Blaming myself," Kaneki admitted, "is all I know how to do."

Amon watched him. Silently he raised his hand. Kaneki flinched.

Amon's palm clapped gently against the crown of Kaneki's head. Kaneki's eyes snapped open in shock as his head was rubbed affectionately, like he was a cat that Amon had found wandering the streets.

"We all have our reasons," Amon said cautiously, his dark eyes tired as they searched Kaneki's face, "for being the way that we are. Everyone is flawed, Kaneki. I'm a stubbornly self-righteous fool. I don't learn. Or maybe I don't know how to learn? I'm not sure. I'm not that finely tuned to my own personality. But that doesn't mean that I don't try."

"What are you trying to say?" Kaneki asked, his voice a small croak.

"He's sayin' that ya can't be so hard on yourself!" Shirazu cried. "We've all made tons of mistakes, Kanekun! No matter what ya think, ya can't trace all the problems in all the world back to ya. Ya ain't that special."

Kaneki found himself smiling at that. If only Shirazu knew.

"Try your best to think positively," Amon told Kaneki, giving him an encouraging smile. "We need you."

It was a nice thought— a nice _feeling_. Kaneki was flushed with warmth at the idea of being needed. Amon didn't say what he was needed for, and Kaneki knew it wasn't his strength that the man was speaking of. Kaneki wasn't strong. That was the full extent of it.

Kaneki _wasn't_ strong. He had to accept it. Once and for all.

It was his presence that Amon was asking for. His presence, his perseverance, his idealism.

Kaneki smiled. He looked between the two of them, Amon with his usually stoic face softened by concern and Shirazu with his unorthodox _everything_ just standing there with every intent on being supportive. It was more than he deserved.

He almost felt content.

And then the alarms went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> juvenor juvenari juvenatus sum.  
> to act like a kid.


	36. forticula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for suicidal thoughts.
> 
> mm ok so i wrote this chapter right after my dog died, and it kind of shows. which sucks because it's a very important chapter, and i feel like i should have... tweaked it a little so that it made more sense and it /felt/ as urgent as i wanted, but i'm trying to get this story done and when you're in a rush you don't exactly have time to make significant edits even though i considered erasing the entire latter half of this chapter multiple times. i think i did actually erase part of it once, in media res, but w/e. i was also just having a really, really bad month. so bear with me. there's a lot here, and i'm not entirely confident with what i've written.
> 
> but here it is. let's keep going.

Touka had stormed out.

He could still hear the door slamming. He could still see her eyes, glowing with half-contained anger and glassy from barely contained tears. The words he'd spoken clung to his throat and his mouth and his lips like ash that had been regurgitated. It all felt so grainy, like his life was an image on a faulty television screen, and his fingertips were made of individual particles of sand that had been caked together by some cruel hand of fate— unfeeling, and always on the verge of crumbling—, and when he spoke his words were just the volcanic dust that settled over civilizations and caked the earth with a fragile image of simultaneous death and immortality.

When the sound of someone shuffling on the other side of the door hit him, he'd bolted upright.

The exchange from early that morning had hit him, like ghosts hovering over his head and murmuring breathy echoes of the mess he'd made.

"Don't touch me!" he'd cried, recoiling from his sister's careful touch like she was a demon and he was a sinner ready to be possessed. "Don't talk to me, don't even look at me! This is all your fault!"

A silence unlike any other had drifted between them. His mind had been filled with thoughts of her betrayal, and then thoughts of her unflinching vigil over him while he'd been half drunk on the pain and misery that his self-inflicted injury had caused him.

It wasn't a fair thing to say, but Ayato had never been much of a fair player.

"Yes," Touka had agreed, her voice a flicker in the dark, a timid breath in the shallow silence. Her eyes had darted fiercely away, and he had felt so furious, so disgusted, because he knew what he looked like. He was weak, and he was shaking, and he had nothing left to him but the volcano of hatred that could not be quelled. Ash swept over his teeth and tongue as words clung to the air and bathed her in dust.

"You think you can help me?" Ayato had gasped, his body pressed up against the corner of the room, his shoulders hunching toward his ears as he curled into himself. "You think you know what this feels like? You used me, you— you _knew_ what you were doing was wrong, but you still did it! You didn't have to betray me!"

"I thought I was helping you," Touka had said quietly.

Ayato snapped. " _Helping_?" His voice was thin, cracking like a bullet slicing against the air. "You think this helped me?"

"No."

"Look at you." Ayato could barely look at her, but he forced himself to stare her down with his dull, vicious gaze. He hoped he unnerved her. Even now, in his guilt, he hoped that she felt this stare slithering under her skin. He hoped that she would never be rid of him. "You pretend like you have a grip, but you don't. The doves are just going to kill you. Like they killed dad. And then what? What was it all for? What the hell can I do now, when the doves come— and they will come. They will come, and they will have dad, and they will have you, and they will kill me because that is the only thing they know how to do. The only good thing that came out of this is that when they _do_ kill me, well, they can't do anything with me afterwards. I'm all hollowed out."

"That's why you did it," Touka had said flatly. It wasn't a revelation— yes, he heard that in her voice. She'd figured it out already, but was only speaking the truth now. "You were scared that they'd turn you into a quinque."

Ayato's skin still prickled from the slimy truth pouring over him.

He felt the thrum of the armored quinque beneath his fingertips. When he had touched it, it had hummed with life. It had a _pulse_.

That was their father that the doves had twisted and molded into a weapon that they could control.

"They have dad, Touka," he'd spat, tugging his knees against his chest and glowering away from her face. "Our _father_. And you worked with them. How can you do that? You are throwing your whole fucking life away to help the people who murdered him!"

"You don't know anything, Ayato," she'd snapped.

"Sure I do," he said, his shoulders shaking with his undying rage, his eyes flashing viciously toward her face. "You sold out. You lied and you lied, and when you finally told me the truth it wasn't for my sake! It was to save a goddamn dove!"

"Mutsuki is more than just a dove, and you know it," she'd said, her voice shaking as her eyes flashed to his sharply. "He's not a bad person."

"What the hell does that matter?"

"He didn't deserve what happened!"

"He's still a dove," Ayato hissed. "He's still one of them. They're evil. And you helped them. You're one of them, too."

"I am _not_!"

"And you're _still_ lying!" Ayato had flung himself off the bed, wobbling to his feet and jerking a finger in her face. "Is that all you know how to do? Do you even know what you've done?"

"This was never supposed to happen!" She shook her head furiously. "I thought that if I was with you, I could protect you!"

"I don't want you anywhere near me!"

"That's not what you were saying two nights ago!" Touka's eyes were narrowed, the glint of her fury setting a spark that lit the whole room on fire. Ayato still did not know if the tears that glistened in her eyes were from fury or sorrow. "You made me promise not to leave you. How the hell do you forget something like that so fast?"

"Because I'm not in excruciating pain anymore, thanks so very much!"

"You're ridiculous," Touka had breathed, flinging her hands into the air in defeat. "It might be my fault, on some fundamental level, that this happened to you, but you can't pin everything on me!"

"No?" Ayato exhaled sharply. "Just fucking watch me."

And she did. She watched him, her eyes alive with rage and disgust and something that he knew was unparalleled sadness. She watched him, her whole body seeming to buckle under the weight of his words— she was trapped beneath the ashes, fossilized in this state of despair. And he'd done that.

"Fine," she had said. Her voice sounded unlike anything Ayato had ever heard. There was resolve there, but also resignation. It would haunt him. "Blame me. Hate me. Crucify me. I don't care. But never say I didn't try. Never say I did nothing."

And with that, she left.

It didn't take him long to sink to their bedroom floor, knees shaking, lips trembling, eyes wide as the horror of what he'd done sunk in.

If he could take back those words, would he? Could he? Was he capable of feeling anything now, aside from this grand hodgepodge of loss and guilt. It was the pain of knowing that yes, Touka was at fault, but he was no less culpable.

He was teetering between catatonic and hysterical. He wanted Touka, but in the same breath he wanted her to disappear. It was difficult to differentiate. His feelings were all tied together in an impossible knot, and if he couldn't sort them out he doubted anyone else would be able to.

When he'd heard the laughter outside, he'd assumed Touka had returned. He'd slipped out of his room quietly, thinking of the words he wanted to say. An apology wouldn't make it onto his tongue, but maybe they could pretend like it had never happened?

But then it wasn't Touka. It was the replacement.

They had talked, briefly, and Ayato wanted to push the whole thing out of his head because he didn't know how to talk to people nicely, and he was well aware of how shitty he sounded. Plus, he remembered, if only vaguely, seeing her for the first time while waist deep in some blood-tinted bath water. They were both well aware of this fact. Any exchange between them was bound to be awkward.

Now he sat by the window and watched the replacement march barefoot away from Anteiku. If he was curious, that part of him was suppressed by the thick black tar of fear and disappointment that clung to his senses. His emotions were battered and his judgment was skewed. He'd take a run barefoot through the streets of Tokyo too, if he had the will to get up and move.

But like, he didn't?

So he just sat and watched.

A guy came running after the replacement— Hinami, yes, he knew her name. From a distance Ayato couldn't tell if it was a man or a teen, and the flurries of snowflakes drifting through the air and colliding sharply with the frosty glass of the window didn't help. The guy had taken Hinami by the shoulder, and Ayato expected her to jerk away. She didn't.

He didn't get that. Was the girl dumb? When a dude grabbed you, you either attack or bolt or both! Did Touka teach her nothing of her world famous life lessons?

At some point while the boy below and Hinami spoke, she'd come to a conclusion that he was some kind of trustworthy figure, and she'd thrown her arms around him. Ayato, without much better to do, simply watched. It would be all to easy to judge, to let his hatred and jealousy and guilt poison this precious moment, but the truth was…

He felt nothing.

It was the worst sort of truth.

He was pulled, lulled, and culled by this sensation of utter loss, his chest hollowed out by a despair of his own choosing. He could wallow forever in _nothing_. To breathe, to live, to know that you are not what you once were.

To know that you are now what you will always be. Nothing more. Nothing less.

A coward, or a sinner, or a disgrace.

Or, in a great mixing bowl of disturbance, he could just be all three.

That made him, essentially, into nothing.

Nothing but a shadow of what he had been once. Of what he could have been, if he had been smarter, or if he had been quicker, or if he had not let his grief blind him.

To live, and be nothing.

It was a painful sort of punishment.

But he thought it probably suited him fine.

 _Stupid_ , he thought, closing his eyes and sinking farther against the floor. His eyes were wet and his cheeks were wetter and he was breathing in air like it was his last minute on earth. It all shook, like a force of nature that could pluck him up from his stupor and flick him away like an insect. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why say those things to Touka? Why push away the only goddamn person who cares? Fucking idiot._

He wondered if all this would continue. If he would feel this same hollow aching tomorrow. If the day after that would yield new results.

Did time really heal all scars, as everyone said?

Ayato had never been one to dwell on heartache, but right now he felt lonely and useless and at the end of his wits.

Everything had changed but him.

He was still falling into old habits, spitting out old words, recycling the same old feelings that he couldn't quite reach any longer.

It had come down to nothing.

Nobody was going to come.

Nobody could save him.

He had never felt like he needed saving before.

Ayato sat, watching the shadows cross the floor in a maddening crawl, and he realized that if he continued to sit here and wallow, he might just die here.

Nobody was going to come.

Daylight died, and he watched the last winking burst of sunlight slide away from his window.

Nobody was going to save him.

* * *

"Why don't you tell me about your childhood?"

The string he'd been tearing from the upholstery of his chair for the past thirty minutes snapped.

His childhood?

As he eyed the fading red rings that had scarred deeply into his wrists, his mind overflowed with images that he couldn't shake. Vague flashes of sunrays through bony fingers, wisps of laughter rushing as fervently as the roar of a waterfall, a mountain range of clouds floating outside the frosty window as their plane dipped and plunged through the massive obstacle. If there were words, if there was a film of negativity, then they had been carefully packaged away and left to die in the recesses of his mind.

"It was normal," he said, not raising his eyes to the woman evaluating his mental state. "As normal as any, I guess."

"Were your parents nice?"

Mutsuki didn't remember them well. Something fluttered at the edge of his vision, and he realized it was a thumb. The memory of a thumb. The soft pad of the inside of his mother's thumb, dashing his tears away. There were no words, but if there had been words, they would be a rapid hymn of Spanish.

"Yes, I guess so."

"You guess?" The woman lifted her chin, her head cocking ever so slightly. Mutsuki met her gaze. She had a serene expression, like some ancient Hellenistic statue, the bust of a woman who told the truth when nobody would listen. "Tell me, Mutsuki, was there ever anything in your past, before you joined the CCG, that has troubled you?"

"I came here to talk about Jason," Mutsuki said slowly. "About me getting tortured. What does my childhood have to do with anything?"

"Childhood trauma can often resurface with new traumas." The woman— Mutsuki had known her name when he'd walked in, but now he was blanking. He saw her face, knew her features, but he felt like if he passed her on the street even five minutes after this session he wouldn't recognize her. "It's important to cover the bases."

"Oh," Mutsuki said flatly. "You want to know if I was abused as a child, and if that abuse is being reflected in how I currently project my identity."

"Why do you assume I'm questioning you identity?"

Mutsuki leaned back, his mouth falling open. She didn't seem offended, but rather alert and deliberate. She had meant to lead the discussion to this. Mutsuki wanted to shoot off a string of curses as colorfully as Shirazu might. But he didn't. He simply stared at her, his mouth closing as he shook his head.

"My identity is my own," he said firmly, his chin lowering while his gaze remained steady. "Nobody did this to me. Nothing triggered it. This is just who I am."

The woman blinked at him. She shot him a small, apologetic smile. "Understood," she said. She wrote something down quickly in her notes. Mutsuki wished he could read them.

"You admitted to feeling much more violent since escaping," the woman said, reading back her notes at him. "You said that you feel like 'you have changed, fundamentally, but cannot find the source of the change.' Is it because you are angry?"

"It… might be."

"So you are angry?" she clarified.

"I'm not _not_ angry?" Mutsuki offered.

"Who are you angry at?"

 _The CCG_. _Aogiri._

Mutuski stared at her. He took a deep breath.

"Myself," he said.

"And why is that?"

"I needed to be saved."

"And there's something wrong with that?"

"No," he sighed, "but that doesn't make me any less bitter about it."

"Is that the only reason you're angry, Mutsuki?"

"No."

"Would you like to share?"

He closed his eyes.

"Is it bad," he said distantly, "to want to run away?"

"No," the woman said. "I'm sure it's a natural reflex, especially when dealing with something so traumatic."

"I desperately want to run away," Mutsuki whispered. "Am I making excuses? Am I being upfront, even with myself, about the reasons I want to leave? I don't know. That's why I'm here."

"Is that really the only reason?"

"What do you…?" Mutsuki leaned back. "What do you mean?"

The woman watched him. Her eyes were dark, and they told him nothing— nothing of her life, nothing of her feelings, nothing of her struggles, nothing beyond the point of her ability to see. He felt like she already knew all the answers she was looking for.

"If you want to run away so badly," she said, "what's stopping you?"

Mutsuki was stunned. He had to stop and think about it. Before now, he'd simply answered instinctively, but now he had to really sit and think on it.

 _Don't tell me she's encouraging me,_ he thought wildly, eying the woman with all his uncertainty bear for her to see. But no, of course not. She was a smart woman, and this was not so much an evaluation as it was a session. Yes. Now he understood.

She'd already made her decision.

"Why don't I tell you," Mutsuki said, rising from his seat, "the next time we meet? I assume this time next week?"

If this doctor was shocked, she didn't show it. She merely smiled.

"Don't you want to know the results of my evaluation?" she asked.

"You can't give me a one hundred percent certain diagnosis right now," he told her frankly, "and you know it. That's why you want to keep seeing me. And that's fine. I'll keep coming here. It'll motivate me to stay."

It was true enough, that he wanted some form of stability right now, and it seemed like the only thing that could help him was to talk. Not to Kaneki, not to Hide, and certainly not to Shirazu. He wanted to talk to someone who had an unbiased opinion about what had happened to him.

He wanted something that could give him an explanation. He wanted something that could validate his feelings on what had happened to him.

"This time next week," the doctor said firmly.

He took a deep, shaky breath. He felt like he was barely standing here. Like his mind was dipping in and out of lucidity like a bird flittering about in a puddle.

"Right…"

When he left, he felt like he'd been enclosed in a bubble. Nothing got in. Nothing got out. He was trapped in a small barrier that he could not see, and it skewed his senses.

Whatever happened now, wherever he went, whatever he did, he couldn't help but feel that it would be a direct result of what had happened to him. It was distracting, imagining every move he made, every thought he summoned, to be some kind of product of insanity or trauma. He didn't know how he should act, if there was a way to pretend that nothing had happened, if he even wanted to go back to the way he used to be.

He had changed, yes, but not fundamentally. Not at his core.

He still feared the prying eyes of others. He still wanted the best for those in his life who had been kind to him.

To repay kindness with kindness. To go one step beyond. That was how good people lived.

Was Mutsuki a good person?

It was a struggle to think such things, and an even greater struggle to let the thought pass. He had no real answer, so dwelling on it was just going to drive him further into a madness half of his creation and half of Jason's.

On his way home, he stood pressed up against several other people, their level breaths flitting madly through his brain as he braved a subway car back to the twentieth ward. He switched trains. The cycle repeated. He observed his face in the window, subway lights forcing him to appear like an apparition behind the glass. Gaunt and twiggy, he looked like a skeleton made alive again with his sunken eyes and straw-like hair.

A strong, breathless voice collided with the frantic breathing of those around him and batted them away viciously. This voice was braver and bolder and better than all the rest. It grabbed him by the backs of his ears and leveled his head.

 _I'll dye it for you_.

Touka. Where was she now? He had not seen her since that night, and he regretted it dearly. He wanted her to know that he had almost thrown it all away. Would she be proud of him? Would she tuck him in close to her, rub his head gingerly, and tell him that he was so brave?

Mutsuki felt guilty. He knew he was projecting on Touka as he had projected onto Kaneki.

Memories of his parents swam like fish darting like a bullet beneath the surface of a stream. He supposed it was painful to imagine the family he'd lost. And now he was projecting their roles onto the people he'd found.

His father could be found in Kaneki, in the way he sat, in the way he spoke, in the way he listened. His mother could be found in Touka, in the way she shouted and the way she walked and the way she smiled. His brother could be found in Shirazu. In the way he looked at Mutsuki. In the way that he was open. In the way that he pried his heart from his chest and held it in his palms for all to see.

A family. It was all Mutsuki could ever really ask for.

And he'd run away from it in a second.

Because it wasn't real, or he wouldn't let it be real, or he was scared that they might think he thought it was real. He couldn't bear to disappoint them. After all, they weren't all together, and they weren't close, and they hadn't known each other for very long. The only time Touka and Shirazu had met was when he'd been trying to kill them. So it was all very complicated.

But he wanted it.

Was that bad? To want something he could not have?

It was useless to have dreams.

As he was passing through the final station, he heard people muttering.

 _They're looking at you_ , a slippery voice that rose from his chest and worked its way to his brain hissed. _They know. They know you're faking your way through life. They want to make you pay for your lies. Let's dress up the silly little girl, make her wear doll's clothes, stick her in the attic until we want to play._

 _That's all you're good for, anyway_.

And then people started to run.

He realized, quickly, that the people running were doves— the CCG. He had to mentally correct himself, shaking the awful intrusive thoughts out of his brain as he tried to focus. The white coats were few in numbers, but the way they shoved aside half the terminal, you'd think there were fifty ghouls running loose above ground.

Mutsuki bolted forward.

"Hey!" He shoved his way through, cutting across the various panicked passersby, clotheslining a man who threw him a dirty look. He dug his badge out of his pocket and jerked it in his face before he could say a word. "Hey! Excuse me!"

An investigator whirled around. Mutsuki didn't recognize him.

"I'm Rank 3 Investigator Mutsuki Tooru," he stated, his voice clipped and firm as he held up his badge. The investigator's eyes flashed wide not at the badge, but at Mutsuki's face the moment his name was uttered. _Uh oh. This will be good._ "Has something happened? You came off a different train from me— and you're not from this ward, I can tell."

"Mutsuki Tooru." The investigator folded his arms across his chest, his fingers cupping his elbows gingerly as he glanced Mutsuki up and down. "I see. I had no idea you had been retrieved. The last I heard, you were missing from Aogiri's base and presumed dead."

Another investigator, this time a young girl, floated up to the man's side. Mutsuki was distracted by the man's words, his head swimming, so he tried to focus on her. She was pretty, in a sleepy sort of way, like her features were made to be looked at through a haze of smoke. Her hair was pale and her eyes were droopy.

The man waved her off. "Go on without me, Ihei," the man said. "I'll catch up."

"But—!"

"Go."

Mutsuki watched the girl frown deeply, and then slowly retreat back to the other investigators.

The man was looking at him expectantly. "Well?" When Mutsuki didn't answer, he sighed. "This isn't exactly the sort of situation where you get the privilege of being closed lipped. I'll disclose information if you will. Deal?"

"Fine." Mutsuki pressed his lips together thinly to hide a frown. "I escaped on my own from Aogiri. I went to a friend's house to recover, not fully trusting myself or anyone else, and now I'm here. I only just informed the CCG that I'm alive because, frankly, I've had other things to deal with. And if you'll excuse me for asking, who _are_ you?"

The man quirked an eyebrow. "Associate Special Class Ui Kori," the man said. Mutsuki's stomach dropped.

"Oh," he said faintly. "S-sorry. Sir."

"Yes, yes, that's fine." Ui exhaled sharply through his nose. They were standing at the entrance of the station, people brushing past them roughly. "Come with me. Let's walk toward the twentieth ward's branch together."

"Okay…"

So they began to walk.

"Escaped," Ui muttered as they met open air. It was a dreary winter day. Mutsuki's cheeks were already chapped from exposure. "How in the world did you do that?"

"I'm a ghoul," Mutsuki said.

Ui stopped for half a beat, shooting Mutsuki an incredulous look. Mutsuki felt satisfied.

"Ah, right," Ui breathed, whisking his dark hair from his eyes sharply. Mutsuki couldn't help but jump. "You're a quinx. Though Kaneki Ken gave me the impression you were the weakest of you three. Was he wrong?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Well, it doesn't matter to me. You're alive and back with us, so congratulations on that front."

"Congratulations for being alive?" Mutsuki couldn't help but smile grimly. "What a sad life we live."

"It's a life we chose."

That didn't make Mutsuki feel any better considering, you know, he wanted to leave.

"You know my story," Mutsuki said, cutting in front of the man and staring at him levely. "Tell me what has you, an Associate Special Class from— what, the First Branch— all the way out here?"

"How did you know I was First Branch?" Ui asked him, his eyes narrowing.

"Lucky guess."

"Right." Ui rolled his eyes. "I won't lie to you. A ghoul recently entered the Twentieth Branch. We're First Branch, but we were much closer than anyone there, so that's why we arrived first. I believe the Director himself is on his way."

"Washuu Yoshitoki?" Mutsuki blurted, his eyes wide. "He's coming here? Because of one ghoul, all of you…?"

His heart nearly stopped.

No. It couldn't be.

"We need to get to headquarters right now," Mutsuki gasped, whirling around.

"Really now? What's the rush all of a sudden?"

"A hunch."

"Well." Ui stepped alongside him, a small smirk tight on his lips. "Can't tell an investigator to ignore a hunch, can I?"

* * *

It was no question whether or not it was a good idea or a bad idea.

It was simply bad. It was stupid. It was reckless.

It would inevitably get her killed.

But she was well past the point of caring.

What does a person have to go through to reach a breaking point? What chain of events could unlock such a raw and visceral reaction? The right combination of emotions and words and situations assaulting a girl with a low grasp on her impulse control was asking for trouble.

Touka had left Anteiku that morning knowing she might not come back.

The ways this could go wrong, they piled up inside her head. If she wasn't executed on the spot, she'd be dragged to Cochlea. If she wasn't dragged to Cochlea, she'd be trapped by the will of the CCG. If not even that, than undoubtedly somehow Aogiri would find out and kill her. It was just a series of losing alternatives.

But she did it anyway.

Later, when asked why she had done it, she just froze up.

She left the apartment quietly, wearing a black dress and knee high boots and imagining her funeral while she stalked through the streets of Tokyo, leaving fresh footprints on the powdery sidewalk.

Yes, yes, it was so fucking dreary, and she hated herself for it, but what else could she do? She was thinking of something that couldn't work. Not logically.

She wondered if she was suicidal.

It was so hard to tell these days.

Touka hesitated only once, at the doors of the Twenieth Ward's Branch of the CCG. Her fingers grazed the cool silver handle of the glass doors, and for the first time since leaving Ayato that morning it truly hit her what she was about to do.

Would he hate her? Would he hate himself?

He already did. Nothing lost, nothing gained.

So she walked through those doors. She didn't make eye contact with the woman at the desk, and instead focused her gaze on the gate that would allow her further access into the building. _Never say I didn't try_ , she thought. _Never said I did nothing_.

One foot clapped against the tile between the RC detector. Next thing she knew, her heart was exploding from the shrill scream of an alarm whirring in her ears. She kept walking. The lights on the detector were flashing, blazing, drumming erratically like the strobe lights of a rave thrumming incessantly to the beating of a human heart.

People shouted. In the din, she recognized the sound of pure panic that resonated around her. Shock blew about her in waves. Not even the wailing siren could drown it out. She stopped only a few meters away from the gate, her eyes raking the scene before her. Investigators had jerked back, backing away from her with expressions of horror that made her wonder what she must look like. She was being stared at like she was a giant spider that had skittered in from a parallel dimension.

Guns were drawn in a blink.

She held up her hands in surrender.

"Get down!" One of the investigators shouted at her, and she merely glanced around, trying to figure out which one was brave enough to speak. Cautiously, she lowered herself to her knees.

Her heart was beating a hundred times a minute, probably, because it seemed to be stuttering like the wings of a hummingbird. She watched them, and they watched her.

"I'm just here to talk," she said. Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

And then, very cautiously, she lowered one hand to reach into her coat pocket.

She couldn't say she was surprised when the guns went off. It was only a second after someone killed the alarm.

She thought, _If I'm killed by a goddamn bullet, I'm going to come back just to beat my own ass to hell and back._

Pain lanced up her arm, a shockwave tingling her fingertips as her mask was blown out of her hand, skidding across the floor. Blood splashed back from the wound that had appeared, a damning black spot broadening across her forearm. She felt a little dizzy staring at it. Then, the pain enveloped her all at once, and she cried out, clamping her palm over it and squeezing her eyes shut.

And then she remembered there had been more than one gunshot.

She looked up sharply, her breath catching in her throat.

A shadow had yawned over her, swallowing her up and forcing her to sink. Sink into a sense of disbelief. A sense of false security.

Kaneki Ken was hunched over her, arms extended to shield her from the extent of the barrage, kagune out and curled into a sharp shell around his body so the bullets didn't pierce anything of his that was innately important.

She stared at him. Her mouth fell open. The words she wanted to speak, all the things she'd been rehearsing, all the mean and vicious speeches she'd wanted to spit out, they just fell flat here. She looked into his eyes, and she saw something she'd never expected to see from a near stranger.

Pure, unadulterated terror.

He looked down at her, and with a face like that, you'd think the world had stopped spinning.

"What the hell?" someone hissed.

A great murmur overtook the crowd, a hushed panic returning as Touka's blood pooled on the CCG's pristine white tile.

"Kaneki!"

He didn't bother to turn and look who it was. Touka bit her lower lip, and she dug her fingers into her arm. She'd expected all of this, except for Kaneki's interference.

Had she meant to die? No. But that didn't mean she'd come here to fight.

"Kaneki, get away from her! That's a ghoul, you—!" The speaker cut himself off. She didn't need to look past Kaneki to know who was speaking.

This man was not a problem. She'd been expecting him. After all, he'd been hunting her and Hinami. And he'd almost killed her and Mutsuki a few days ago. But still, it was mildly terrifying knowing that he was here, watching her turn herself in.

It wasn't fair to say that time had stopped. It didn't stop. She wasn't naïve enough to think that it _could_ , that she was so fortunate or so deserving of a slippage of time. Instead, time slowed, and she was able to observe Kaneki's expression fully.

His brow was taut and his mouth was open. His eyes searched her face, a storm that rolled and struck out sharply, asking questions that could not be answered. The rims of his lashes were watery. There were heavy bags beneath them. He had not slept in days, and who could blame him? Not Touka.

"Why?" he whispered. She stiffened in spite of herself. His voice sounded broken, like a record scratching. "Why did you come here?"

The world froze, and so did she. Her blood turned to ice, and she felt herself become something out of a winter dream. Something faint and glassy, something fragile and cold. Something that could kill, but was never meant to last.

She gripped her forearm tighter, and she looked away sharply. His eyes were digging through her thoughts and scooping out the answers.

"I came," she said, lifting her chin high and meeting his gaze icily, "to see if you could make good on your word."

His bewildered expression meant nothing. All that mattered was that she could survive this. Right? Wasn't that what this was? A test?

No. The truth was all there for both of them to see.

She had no idea what she was doing, and she didn't care at all.

"Don't come any closer!" Kaneki snapped, lowering his head sharply.

"We have to restrain the ghoul."

"No," Kaneki said.

The murmuring continued. Touka sat, a victim of her own foolishness. No, it wasn't her being delusional or anything. She really had expected all of this. But she was so damn tired of being someone else's pawn. She wanted to make her own decisions. She wanted to know if the deal she had made was even really worth it.

And there was one more thing she wanted.

But that could wait until she was out of this mess.

"Kaneki," the investigator who had attacked her on more than one occasion said sharply. "Put that thing away and explain what is happening!"

"No. Not until she's gone. Touka, get up."

"Don't tell me what to do," she muttered.

"Now's not the time to be stubborn." Kaneki looked at her. She looked back at him defiantly. "Please. Please, get up. Please go."

"Not until I talk to the man in charge."

"Please," Kaneki whispered, shooting her a desperate glance.

She couldn't even find it in herself to feel guilty.

She stood up. His desperate gaze caught her, flickering between her face and her injured arm.

"I'm not leaving," she said firmly. "I won't leave. Not until I talk to the Director of the CCG."

The man to Kaneki's left looked exasperated, but he did not look like he was about to attack her. "Who are you?" the man asked her coolly.

"Is that your business?" she replied in a similar tone.

"You are standing in a snake pit, and you still talk like that?" The man's eyes narrowed at her. "Stand down. Stand down, _everyone_. Kaneki, let me see that mask on the floor."

"Nobody's standing down, Amon," Kaneki said softly.

"Well, give them a reason to!" Amon met Kaneki's eyes with a fierce stare, the kind of firm and uncompromising gaze that Touka might have admired in anyone but her enemy. She gripped her limp arm, eying the man and trying to decide if she actually hated him or not. He'd taken part in killing Ryouko, that was for sure. He'd tried to kill her too, multiple times. But right now he seemed less keen on doing so.

Probably because he didn't realize who she was. Right?

Kaneki cautiously banished his kagune. The tension in the air was still suffocating, but a few investigators lowered their guns and quinque.

"Here." Touka scooped up her mask with her good hand, blood dashing across its cheek when she tossed it to Amon. He caught it, giving her a look. There was clear distrust in his eyes, and all her instincts screamed at her at once. This man would kill her, given the chance.

Amon wore a frown that made her wonder how she was still standing. He looked at her, studied her face, and for a sickening moment she thought he might have recognized her.

"Shinohara," he called. "Recognize this?"

Touka glanced past Amon, following the path of her mask towards a man who approached cautiously from the other end of the lobby. Her blood rose in her, bubbling up through her veins and hissing at her to move. So she lurched forward, her good hand outstretched.

She was yanked back, a tug at her stomach restraining her and causing her to shout in wordless rage. The guns were raised once more, but she didn't care. She kicked the air viciously.

"Stop!" Kaneki's arm dug into her stomach, and the other restrained the shoulder of her good arm. "Please, stop this! Why are you doing this?"

"Why do people like _him_ get to exist?" Touka spat, her feet squeaking against the tile as she resigned herself to her own folly. "If I wore the skin of a man _I_ killed and flaunted it in front of his children, I'd be labeled a monster! Wait. I already am. I don't need to do anything horrific like that."

The man, Shinohara, watched her with an expression that seemed to soften with understanding. He, in his own fucked up way, pitied her.

Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck her!

She had done this to see if she could live through it.

The truth was that she wasn't scared at all.

Just angry.

Just tired.

 _Shoot me_ , she dared them. _Kill me. Be the monsters I know you are!_

"Touka," Kaneki murmured in her ear. "Please calm down. Calm down and look at me."

She was doubled over Kaneki's arm, her hair curtaining her face. There were tears stinging her eyes, and she felt the weight of a thousand gazes on her. She couldn't allow herself to relax, but she did raise her gaze to his.

For a moment, she thought she was simply seeing things. And then her heart dropped.

There were tears streaming steadily down his face. He looked at her, and there was something there that she couldn't quite place. He was crying for her, certainly, crying as though he felt her pain, and crying because right now she could not.

Seeing this, not knowing why it was happening, was a new experience all together. In all the time that they had spoken, in all his strange words and drawn out looks, she had not imagined that behind it all he truly cared. Part of her was too stubborn, or maybe part of her was too scared, or maybe part of her was too vile, or maybe it was just that she was all three and she couldn't properly react to being shown affection.

It was why she remained mute when he pulled her to him, her face bumping against his shoulder as he hugged her tightly. He didn't say anything, but she knew that all eyes were on them, and whatever was happening, it would reflect either poorly or positively on them both. There was no turning back now. Whatever her fate was, Kaneki was inexplicably tied to it.

"Kaneki," Amon said cautiously. "Let the ghoul go. We need to interrogate her."

"Have you called Washuu Yoshitoki?"

"Have I—?!" Amon's voice was sharp and exasperated. "Kaneki, I don't have that kind of authority!"

"No. But Shinohara does." Kaneki's voice was small and thick. Gingerly, he placed one hand against the back of her head. "Nobody is going to touch or so much talk to her until you get Washuu on the phone."

"That's—!" Amon sighed, his disbelieving voice sounding on the verge of resignation.

"Nobody is going to hurt her, Kaneki," a new voice, one that Touka could only assume was Shinohara, said. It made her want to scream. To her great annoyance, Kaneki patted her head gently. He probably thought he was being reassuring, but right now she just wanted to hit something. "If she is the ghoul I think she is, we are still under a strict No Kill Order. I assume you had something to do with that?"

Kaneki didn't answer.

 _A what?_ Touka's mind was reeling. _Kaneki pulled that off? So was it all a ruse, or was it real?_

"I need to talk to the guy in charge," she muttered.

"Yeah, yeah," Kaneki sighed. "I know. I'd tell you to be patient, but I know you well enough to know that's impossible for you."

"Excuse me?"

"Director, sir, this is Associate Special Class Shinohara."

Touka pulled away from Kaneki and half twisted to look at the man. She eyed him distrustfully, and he eyed her right back. Beside him was a child— no. Not a child. With a shock of snowy hair and eyes as red as a ghoul's, the pallid investigator provided an eerie sight next to the straight-laced Shinohara. They looked at her, and there was both curiosity and blood lust in their eyes.

"We have a situation here at the Twentieth Branch," Shinohara said, holding his cellphone loosely in his fist as he observed Touka. "A ghoul is here, and she wishes to speak with you."

There was a pause. She noted a few investigators glancing at each other, probably wondering what the hell was happening. Some of them still had guns aimed at her. She tried to keep her attention on Shinohara.

"Well, that's just the thing, isn't it, sir? She has the mask of the ghoul we were advised not to kill during the Aogiri raid. Would you like to speak with her, or should we carry out the extermination?"

Kaneki's arm tightened around her shoulders. She glanced up at him.

"You're an idiot," he whispered to her. "You know that?"

"Guess I learned from watching you," she retorted, not bothering to lower her voice. Amon's eyes whisked sharply to hers. He had a very intense gaze.

"Yeah, but I never—"

"Turned yourself in to the CCG?" Touka offered. "Made unreasonable demands? Did something borderline suicidal?"

Kaneki looked down at her with a frown that suggested he was mildly hurt by her words.

"Excuse me."

Touka looked up, and she jerked back against Kaneki's arm when she saw that Shinohara was standing only a meter or so away, offering out his cellphone.

"I don't think you came here to kill me, so I'm giving you a chance. Take the phone."

She stared into his eyes, her heart and her mind not truly existing at the same time as her body. She was lost in her recollection of rescuing Ayato. The stifled scream caught inside her throat as her father's presence tingled her nerves and sewed itself into her veins. He had existed. He had lived.

But now?

Touka snatched the phone from his hand and glared at him.

"Who is in more danger here," she said coolly, "Mr. Shinohara? You or me?"

The man merely lowered his eyes.

He knew who she was.

She opened her mouth to snap at him, words tingling her tongue, rage blinding her eyes.

But her words died on her tongue.

_Do you feel guilty?_

She gripped the phone firmly in her fist.

"Mr. Washuu," she said calmly as she pulled the phone to her ear, "I assume?"

" _It sounds like my little spy got a little impatient._ " The man's voice wasn't as she'd expected it to be. It was soft, not quite guttural or aged, but as kindly and average as any man's voice could be. " _You understand that you've exposed our little operation to everyone now, correct?_ "

"Exposed?" Touka grimaced. "I'm sorry, but you're supposed to be leading these people. An organization built on secrets and lies is destined to crumble— and that's on _you_. I did my part. I gave you what you wanted. Now you need to prove that you're willing to uphold your end of it. _Sir_."

She shrugged Kaneki off at this point, stalking away from him and ignoring the bewildered stares of everyone around her. Only Kaneki seemed to be composed. Which was saying a lot, since there were still tears staining his cheeks.

" _Ah_." The man on the other line chuckled. " _Okay, okay, you got me. You have to understand, though, I was always planning to reveal this to the rest of the CCG. I only assumed that I had more time._ "

"Yeah, well, you assumed wrong." Touka scowled at the ground. "I just want to know if I'm going to die or not. Because if it's going to happen sooner or later, I'd rather not continue to be used by you when the end result is all the same."

" _Of course,_ " Washuu said solemnly. " _I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. If it's alright with you, I'd like to negotiate the official terms of your protection within CCG custody._ "

"Custody," Touka repeated dully.

" _Not Cochlea,_ " Washuu assured her quickly. " _I don't intend on arresting you. You have been very compliant and genuinely useful thus far. But until we get this all settled, you will have to be kept under close observation. That is the only way anyone there who is hell bent on exterminating you will allow you to leave the Twentieth Branch alive_. _Do you understand? I'm not trying to be cruel, but you've tied my hands on this matter_."

Her palms were sweating against the phone, her eyes darting between the investigators who watched her. Between Shinohara, between Amon, between Kaneki— even between the white haired kid and a boy who she recognized as Mutsuki's friend. It was difficult to breathe normally under these circumstances, her knees wobbling pitifully as she imagined her life from a drab little cell.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked Washuu glumly.

" _I'm afraid not, my dear._ "

"Then I guess I understand." Her jaw clenched, her breaths coming in sharp intervals. "Thank you. For your time."

" _Of course. I look forward to meeting you, Miss…?_ "

She closed her eyes. She squeezed them so hard that she saw red.

"Kirishima," she murmured.

" _A pleasure to finally speak to you, Miss Kirishima_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forticulus, forticula, forticulum.  
> quite bold, rather brave.


	37. mimula

Kaneki would not have had the balls to hold Touka's hand for this long back in his old life. Nor, did he think, that she would have let him. But things were different. They were different.

She existed now like an animal on the brink of extinction. Aimless wandering, eyes following her every movement, and a world destined to change just by her incessant teetering between life and death.

And he felt lucky to exist at all, if he had to be honest.

He held her hand when Shinohara led them through the crowd, squeezing her knuckles hard so she'd understand that he was here for _her_. But also that she understood that she could not appear threatening under any circumstances.

"You can let go of me," she muttered.

He considered her for a moment, his eyes flickering from her face to her hand. "Do you want me to?" he asked.

She frowned deeply, her jaw setting in a way that he knew well meant that she was about to burst out all her angry sentiments. He prepared himself appropriately, knowing her too well to be fazed by such a thing.

But she didn't. She just turned her face sharply away from him, glowering at Shinohara's back.

He was still holding her hand when Ui Koori showed up.

"Clear the area," the man said, walking into Shinohara's office and waving to a girl beside him. Kaneki recognized Ihei's sleepy eyes as they darted curiously into the room. Kaneki repositioned himself carefully, turning his shoulders and lowering his head protectively over Touka. Ihei blinked at him, her mouth falling open.

"Let me in."

Kaneki nearly jumped to his feet.

"Rank 3," Ui sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've been more than helpful thus far, especially in reducing the panic downstairs, but remember your place. Help Ihei clear the floor. We don't want anyone sneaking in to exterminate the ghoul before we can properly question her."

"Excuse me?" Touka hissed. Kaneki squeezed her hand, meeting her eye and shaking his head. She looked back at him, searching his face irritably. "Do you even know what's going on?"

"No, frankly, I don't," he sighed. "You saw to that by _setting off the alarm_."

"Kaneki!"

He found himself jerking to his feet instinctively, the sound of Mutsuki's voice drowning out all his senses. The boy was half bent over Ui's arm, fingers outstretched and face stricken with worry. Ui was frowning, looking a little startled by Mutsuki's outburst. His arm had buckled when Mutsuki had all but thrown himself onto it.

Beside Kaneki, Touka perked up.

"Mutsuki—?" she gasped, her eyes lighting up.

"Let him in, Associate Special Class," Kaneki said, stopping Touka from rushing forward with a jerk of his arm. She shot him a fierce look, and he promptly ignored it.

"He doesn't have the rank for—!" Ui objected, while Kaneki simply stared him down. Ui raised his chin curiously, his mouth open with a question clearly form on his lips. He glanced inquisitively at Mutsuki, who looked like he was barely containing himself from battering through Ui's arm and snapping it like a toothpick. Honestly, Kaneki had commend his restraint. "Go on, Rank 3."

"What?" Ihei's small, dreamy voice blurted. "Really? But, Ui!"

"He'll join you in a minute, Ihei. Rank 3, say what you have to say and be done with it." Ui raised his arm, and Mutsuki bolted into the room. Kaneki caught him by the shoulder before he reached Touka, his arms outstretched.

"Are you alright?" Kaneki asked, peering into Mutsuki's face.

Mutsuki tore his eyes away from Touka to blink at Kaneki bemusedly. "I— I'm fine, I—!" He shook his head furiously. "Who cares about me? What the hell is going on?! Why is Touka here?"

"I came here because I wanted to," Touka admitted.

Mutsuki's eyes flashed to hers. The shock wore away quickly, his brow knitting together as the confusion washed over him. And then the anger came.

"Why?" His voice was barely over a whisper. "Why would you…?"

Touka looked at him, her mouth parting meagerly to defend herself. But to Kaneki's surprise, no words came. She simply stood, her eyes widening, and she brought a hand to her mouth and covered it in shame.

"I… I wasn't thinking," she said truthfully. "I didn't want to think. I'm sorry, Mutsuki. Please don't worry about me, okay? This isn't on you."

"Do you need someone to get you out of here," Mutsuki said in a very low voice, his eyes flickering dangerously toward Ui.

"No, no," she sighed, waving him off as though he had offered to clean her room for her. "That's not necessary. I think I'm safe for now. Right, Kaneki?"

"I'd die before I let someone hurt you," Kaneki told her. She jerked back a bit, looking up at him with a startled expression.

"Well that's excessive," she said. "We don't even know each other that well."

"Neither do we," Mutsuki pointed out. "And I'd probably do the same. Touka… I really doubt they have your best interest at here."

Touka smiled grimly. "I know," she sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair, baring her usually shielded eye and blinking up at the ceiling. "I know, okay? I'm more of a tool than I am a living creature right now. Anyone in this building would kill me without hesitation— without even feeling guilty. But if I can get what I want at the end of the day, then all of this will have been worth it."

Mutsuki's eye softened a bit, and he very gingerly touched the crown of her head with the tips of her fingers. Dark strands of her hair swallowed up his pasty, discolored fingers.

"I hope so," he murmured, "for your sake."

And with that, he turned away, not looking at Kaneki and brushing past Ui Koori. Kaneki didn't even get to ask how his therapy session had gone, when he had been worrying himself silly all day about it. After all, Mutsuki had had some bad experiences with therapists in the past.

Kaneki turned to Touka, and he nudged her reassuringly. "As long as Washuu keeps his word," he said, "everything will be okay."

"I'm trusting you," she said quietly. She didn't look him in the eye, and instead plopped back down into the seat in front of Shinohara's desk. "I'm trusting that you know what you're doing."

"I can't promise you anything right now," Kaneki said, rolling his eyes. "You saw to that with your whole dramatic entrance. _Literally_ , what the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking," she hissed, her eyes flashing up at him dangerously, "that my brother hates me more than ever, and he's pretty much been crippled and traumatized by an organization that I've been helping with no clear reward. I'm not a slave, Kaneki. I need to know that what I did was worth it."

"It…" Kaneki swallowed hard, her words hitting him in all the places that were the softest. His longing for family, his fear that he'd made all the wrong choices, his empathy for his friends, the need for validation. "It has to be worth it. It has to be."

Touka scoffed, sinking low into her chair. "You can tell yourself just about anything," she murmured, "and as long as it makes you feel better, it might as well be the truth."

Kaneki took a deep breath. There were things— so, so, so many thing— that he wished he could tell her. He had lived a life apart from hers, where he had worked with her, where he had known her, where he had grown to care for her beyond all barriers of time and space, and now he recognized that it did not matter. Because she made her own decisions. And he could not save her from her own impulsivity.

Never once had he been about to control Kirishima Touka.

He was certain that if there were any gods out there playing hymns on their fate strings, they had cut their fingers one too many times on Touka's.

She was steadfast and stubborn, and there was no end to her. She existed in a way that made him so dizzy. While Hide was a blinding source of light, and Kaneki lived on the brink of darkness, she waxed and waned like the moon. When she became too much, she pulled back. And she was too demure, she lashed out as a reminder that she was who she was, and the world could not continue without her.

If Kaneki could tell her how much she meant to him, would she even bat an eye?

He was aware of Ui at the door, watching them both with a steady eye. He didn't care.

He sat down beside her, and he looked down at his lap. "You know," he said softly, "none of this would have happened if I had just had a crush on you, Touka, instead of Rize."

She looked up at him sharply, her neck nearly snapping upon his breezy utterance of _Touka-chan_ , and her eyes simply going wide at the rest.

"Oh, shut up," she choked, her cheeks growing a little pink and her brow furrowing. "Rize was good at getting boys to fall for her. That what made her so dangerous, she didn't need anything but her charm to get her prey. I didn't want your attention. I never asked for it."

"Well you have it now."

"What?" She rolled her eyes. "Shut up. You sound like Hide."

"Ouch."

"Anyway," Touka said, rolling up her sleeve and examining her wound with a frown, "you shouldn't keep dwelling on the past like that. Who cares what you could have done differently? I'm not dwelling on how easy my life would be right now if I had just stayed home today. Stop focusing on that shit, okay? Living in the past isn't really living at all."

"Wise words," Ui said from the doorway, "from a killer."

"I'm sure you've killed just as many as me," Touka told him curtly.

"I've killed ghouls. Killing killers doesn't make me one."

"What kind of backwards logic…?" Touka huffed, gritting her teeth to keep herself from lashing out. "God! You doves are so entitled!"

"Touka, calm down…"

"No, I'd like to hear this." Ui stepped casually into the room, his slim shoulders squared and his expression ungodly serene as he watched Touka bristle under his gaze. "It probably doesn't come as a surprise, but I don't get to hear the opinions of ghouls very often. So tell me, girl. What makes you think you are so above us?"

"I don't think that at all!" Touka scowled, shaking her head furiously. "You—! You doves are the ones who are so keen on keeping your superiority complex intact! Like, damn, I get getting rid of the really dangerous and hyperviolent ghouls, but you guys overcompensate! There's no reason for you to kill ghouls that don't hunt humans, or can't defend themselves! It's not right."

"Your _existence_ is what isn't right," Ui replied coolly. "Monsters who prey on humans, who rip parents from their children, who leave massacres in their wake— you eat people."

"I can't control _nature_ , okay?" Touka snapped. She nearly jumped to her feet, but Kaneki's hand flew out and snatched her. She looked down at him, her feet buckling against the floor. She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply through her nose. "I don't know what you want me to say. I can't help what I am. I can't change what I've done. It doesn't make me feel any less guilty about it all. And it _doesn't_ make what you do to ghouls any different."

"Oh really?"

"Yes," Touka said, her eyes flicking sharply toward Ui. "Really."

"Killing and eating men, women, and children, isn't so different from hunting down those who do it," Ui said coolly. "So that's what you're saying?"

"I'm just saying that I _exist_!" Touka shook her head fiercely, tearing her arm from Kaneki's grip and jumping to her feet. Kaneki's fingers wilting in midair, drooping pitifully in utter loss. He looked between the two of them, words in his mouth, struggling to find themselves as they strangled him.

"Yes, we all know you exist." Ui folded his arms across his chest, his large black eyes narrowing. He was an odd man, cool and professional, but not as standoffish and frightening as Arima. He had a more approachable air about him which made this conversation less like a dangerous dispute and more like a heated debate. "You made sure of that with your dramatic entrance. Tell me, did you think this through even a little bit? We could have killed you on the spot."

"I was hoping you'd have a little humanity," Touka hissed, looking riled up and livid, her fists clamped at her sides and her knuckles white and bloodless. Screw kagunes— Touka might just get into a fistfight with this man. "I came because I've been scared for months that even though I've helped you, risked my life for you, betrayed my own kind for you, you'd _still_ kill me. I just wanted to know if it would really happen. If it was going to happen sooner or later anyway, what was the harm?"

"Suicide isn't always the answer."

Touka's face, which had been twisted beyond recognition in her utter rage, seemed to soften in shock. Ui's words sounded almost… gentle. Not quite concerned, but obviously well-advised.

"No," she said, a bite tinging her words. "Not always, I suppose."

Ui watched her dully, his arms still crossed and his chin held high in a haughty sort of way. He studied her from a careful distance, and then he turned his eyes away.

"That said," he sighed, "I can't say I'm surprised that this happened."

"What?" Touka said blankly In unison with Kaneki.

"I won't say I'm shocked, because I'm not." Ui shook his head sharply. "The Director is an eccentric man who will do things nobody else would ever possibly imagine in order to make progress. What he's done with you is just an extension of that."

"Progress," Touka said. Slowly, she brought her hand to her forehead, and she leaned heavily against her chair. "What… does that even mean…?"

"It means that maybe you're right."

Touka's head snapped in Ui's direction, her hair falling into her face haphazardly and her eyes so large that they seemed to take up half her face. Kaneki stared as well, his mouth falling open in shock.

"Oh," Ui remarked dully, "don't look at me like that. I'm not trying to be your friend, or anything. However, it makes perfect sense for the higher ups to want to… well, I guess _evolve_ might be the right word. We've been fighting this fight for a while now, and though our methods work, they're not as effective as we'd like. And maybe that's just because we can't think like ghouls think. You have insight that is invaluable to us. In my opinion, keeping you alive is the more lucrative option."

Touka quirked an eyebrow, sharing a look with Kaneki. Lucrative, huh? Well, it was better than what they'd been expecting, that was for sure. However, they both knew not everyone in the CCG would see Touka as anything close to a 'lucrative option.'

"Well," Kaneki said vacantly, "it's a start."

Touka glanced down at him. Her face expressed her bemusement, and something of her relief, but otherwise he could not read her. It had always been hard to pick apart what was happening inside her head. If he had the power to read her mind, he might be the happiest man on the planet.

"You do understand," Ui said suddenly, "that you are obligated to continue to serve the CCG, correct, Kirishima?"

Touka took a deep breath, and she nodded curtly. "I am," she said. "I'm prepared for that."

"Even if you hate us?"

Her jaw tightened. "Yes," she murmured, "even if I hate you."

"Even if we killed your family?"

Touka's eyes shot up, meeting Ui's with a burst of intensity. She searched his face, and Kaneki found himself rising to his feet.

"Part of the deal was that Touka's family would not be harmed," he said quickly, stepping between them to prevent Touka from lashing out.

"That may have been the deal you made initially," Ui said, "but something like that can't hold up here. We exist to hunt ghouls. If your family gets a little too hungry, we'll be there to cut them down."

"And I'll be there to stop you," Kaneki snapped before Touka could object. He could see it in her eyes, the fury and disgust. She'd say something she shouldn't.

"We'll deal with you later," Ui told him coolly. "Don't interrupt, Rank 3. Count yourself lucky that you are allowed in this room."

"A deal is a deal," Kaneki said firmly. "The only reason Touka did this is to protect her family, and that is what we are going to do. _Protect_ them. Showing a ghoul or two some mercy is not going to make the CCG crumble— but being overzealous and cruel will! You can't run the world on the notion that those who are different cannot be bargained with! It's not right."

"I won't have this discussion with you, Rank 3," Ui said irritably. "Just leave it alone."

"I won't." Kaneki shook his head furiously. "You know what? You weren't even there. You don't know what's been going on or what the Director has in mind for Touka, so why don't you knock your ego down a peg and listen to me? Touka's family has to be off limits. It's not right for you to dangle their lives over her head while you use her to further your own goals."

"You keep throwing that word around," Ui said bleakly, "the word " _right_." What do you think that means, Kaneki Ken? I'm sure doing the _right_ thing has a very different meaning for all of us. Right to you is not right to me is not right to her. This world is cruel, and it serves us these impossible questions on silver platters. A sword or a noose— choose. Your wife or your child— choose. A few thousand or a few million— choose. We have to make hard choices in life, and the choices we make aren't necessarily going to be _right_ by any standard regardless of how much we talk ourselves up about it. Yes, I did the right thing. Yes, ghouls deserve to die. Yes, they are monsters. Yes, a child's scream is nothing if that child is a monster. _Yes_. I am right. These are the lies we tell ourselves to keep going, Kaneki Ken." Ui paused then, but only to dig through the pocket of his coat and retrieve a box of cigarettes. His eyes drifted wearily from Kaneki's face to Touka's. He pulled a cigarette to his lips, and he lit it.

"Do you think," Ui hissed, his cigarette wobbling against his lips, his words muffled against it, "that I _enjoy_ killing? Well, I happen to be very good at it, but I don't find any particular pleasure in watching people die. Ghouls— they disgust me. Their lives disgust me, their deaths disgust me. I can't win. What is _right,_ I wonder." He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, smoke billowing with his words, curtaining his dainty face and filling the room up to the brim.

Kaneki blinked, sharing an uncertain glance with Touka. Ui was speaking, but his words didn't make much sense. Kaneki couldn't help but think that he probably sounded similar when he ranted about his own morality.

"I guess," Kaneki said cautiously, "that the right thing has to do with justice as much as kindness. As _mercy_. You cannot continue to run a system that refuses to grant some form of pardon towards your enemy. Destruction and death can't always be the answer."

"You're a smart boy," Ui sighed, folding his arm so he cupped the elbow of the arm that held his cigarette. Smoke curled around his slim fingers as he brought the cigarette to his lips. "You must know that history has dictated that destruction and death are the way that civilizations thrive."

"And, historically," Kaneki countered, "that's the way that civilizations fall. And all civilizations do fall, Associate Special Class. No matter how great they are."

Ui eyed him through the screen of smoke he'd made between them, knuckles white against his lips, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. His black eyes were not quite eerie, but not even close to innocent. As childlike as they were, they seemed tired and wise, like an owl's vigil. His lips opened, and smoke unfurled from his tongue like a dragon about to expel flames.

"Get me an ashtray," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his white knuckles, "will you?"

Kaneki leaned forward and scanned Shinohara's desk for an ashtray, but he found none. He stood and circled around it, hoping to find some sort of empty cup or basin that could suffice.

Touka wandered to his side, her eyes raking in the scenery. Shinohara kept his desk neat, and the surrounding area was surprisingly barren for such a pleasant man. There was a calendar on the wall, and it shocked Kaneki to see that the new year was only mere days away. The man had taped a single colorful drawing of what appeared to be a spotted dog or a giraffe to his wall— Kaneki had to wonder if he had children with this artistry. There was a paperweight on his desk, a heavy iron block that read out a quote by some famous boxer. Other than that, there was a single photo of Shinohara and his wife, smiling happily at the camera as though it was their wedding day. If Kaneki didn't know how to judge to photo better and understand that it had been taken recently, he might have mistaken it for a wedding photo.

He didn't miss how Touka's eyes lingered on the photograph.

"Here." Kaneki scooped an old coffee can out of the garbage bin and offered it out to Ui. "This will have to do."

Ui didn't look like he minded as he took the can and shook the ash off the end of his cigarette and into the opening of the can. He glanced at the two of them tiredly.

"I don't understand you," Ui told them frankly. "Either of you. I'll be honest about that. You have _so much_ to lose, and yet you're here. Doing this. Why?"

"I believe that the world can change," Kaneki said firmly.

"And you are a fool," Ui replied curtly. "I know this. You know this. And what about you. Ghoul. Girl. Kirishima."

Touka frowned, her fingers lacing around her elbows and her chin lowering toward her chest defensively. "I guess…" She glanced up at Kaneki, a thoughtful frown tugging at her lips. "I guess, in a way, I want the same thing."

"To change the world?"

Touka's eyes drifted back to Ui's. There was something there, a surety, a spark of defiance that had not been there before. Her frown turned into half a smirk.

"To make it better," she said.

Ui took a long drag on his cigarette. He closed his eyes.

"You two," he muttered. "I've never understood two people so completely and yet not at all. Your contradictions are limitless, you know that? You can't get what you want while existing like you do."

"Life is full of contradictions, but we all are living anyway," Kaneki replied. "Isn't _existing_ by itself just a big contradiction? How can we be here, having this conversation, if it was not fated or designed by some higher power, or if there is no fate or destiny, then how does coincidence happen that we were created, that somehow we made it here, to this very place in time, to meet this day, this hour, this minute— just to argue about _destiny_? About _morality_? Ui, nothing is spelled out for us. Life is constantly changing, and so is the world! If you could do the day over again, and you changed a single event, you knocked the whole day out of balance, but at the end of it all the sun still rose, and the sun still set. All I'm asking you to do is look at the big picture. A life should be worth protecting, even the life of a ghoul."

Ui sighed, smoke billowing from his lips, and he shook his head.

"You've out stubborned me," he admitted. "I give up. That didn't make much sense, and my head is pounding. If the Director can find a way to protect Kirishima and her family from the rest of the CCG, then who am I to object? I am not that invested in your lives, frankly, and Kirishima has done nothing to slight me personally for all I know. Unless you killed my parents."

"Let me just consult the list," Touka said dryly. "I'll get back to you in like, a month."

Ui actually smirked at her at that, lifting his cigarette in a mock salute.

A knock caused them all to jerk back, heads snapping toward the door. Shinohara stood there, looking solemn as he cautiously led Washuu Yoshitoki into the room.

"Associate Special Class," Washuu greeted.

Ui extinguished his cigarette by snubbing it against the can, and then dropping the butt into the can's opening.

"Sir," Ui said. His voice was clipped and hoarse. "I've tried to catch myself up with the situation at hand, sir, but I feel that I'm… ill suited… for this."

"I've placed a heavy burden on you, Ui," Washuu said, looking every bit as apologetic as he sounded. "Tasking you with getting Kirishima to a secure location— honestly, I didn't expect you to clear the entire floor so I could speak with her, but I commend your initiative."

"Thank you, sir."

Washuu's eyes swiveled and landed on Touka. She took a step back, probably by instinct, and Kaneki caught her by both arms. He steadied her easily, and squeezed her arms in reassurance.

"So you are the woman of the hour," Washuu said. He blinked, and he cocked his head. "Ah. Girl of the hour."

"And you are the Director of the CCG," Touka replied coolly. "Washuu, was it?"

"Washuu Yoshitoki." The man smiled at her gently. "Well, I'm not sure what I expected, if I'll be honest. Kaneki here's spoken only highly of you, going on and on about how he trusts you with his life and all that. I think I understand now."

Kaneki tried to process that, feeling Touka tense beneath his hands, and he lifted them from her arms with a start.

"Kaneki is a very empathetic person," Touka said, her voice slow and her words carefully chosen. "He doesn't know—"

Kaneki cut in sharply, "Now isn't the time to argue about how well I know you. I know you. You know me. Washuu, sir, I meant what I said. I trust her implicitly."

"I believe it," Washuu said warmly. "I do. But your word won't convince the whole organization, Kaneki. We need more. I'm sorry, Miss Kirishima, but you've put yourself in quite the predicament by revealing yourself this way."

Beside him, Touka took a deep breath. "I just wanted to see if you could make good on your promise," she murmured. "I knew it was dangerous. I was… prepared to die for it, I guess."

"Bold." Washuu smirked. "Very bold. I appreciate a bit of boldness and impulsivity in a person. So!" Washuu clapped his hands together, looking a bit too cheery for the situation. "Shall we figure out how to save Kirishima's life?"

"Is that the goal, sir?" Ui asked hesitantly. "Really?"

"I made a promise that I intend to keep." Washuu looked at Touka deliberately, and she gaped openly at him. "You won't die here, Kirishima. Most of the CCG won't even know your name, or your story. I'll be making a thorough sweep of every investigator who was present when you sounded the alarm, and make sure they don't talk."

"W-what…?" Touka blinked rapidly. "You'd really…? But wait." She shook her head fiercely. "I don't understand! I'm not that important to you. I'm disposable! I'm not half human like Kaneki— I'm not even a good person. There are better ghouls than me who could have this. Why are you taking your chances on me?"

Washuu's smile was warm and faint.

"Because Kaneki said he trusts you," Washuu said. "The boy has his faults, but I know that he wouldn't put you in danger if he didn't think you could do this job perfectly. And you've done very well up until this point! I really do need to apologize about what happened at the Aogiri Raid to your… brother, was it?"

Touka's whole body went taut, and Kaneki caught her by the shoulders.

"Don't," he whispered to her gently. "He's being sincere. He's not toying with you. Don't snap."

Touka took a deep breath. She nodded sharply.

Washuu watched her curiously. "Shinohara," he said. "It might be best if you leave the room. I'm not sure that our guest is fully comfortable with having you around."

Shinohara, to his credit, looked utterly repentant. He wore his guilt heavily on his face as he stared at Touka somberly, his resignation to the deeds he'd done clear as day. He nodded curtly to Washuu, his eyes stuck on Touka's face. He looked like he had something to say, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it.

So he closed his eyes and turned away, moving out the door briskly.

Touka watched dully. She did not relax.

"If you know about my brother," Touka said sharply, "then there's no reason to hide the other reason why I came here. Do you know why my brother fought that man, Shinohara, the way he did?"

"I wasn't there." Washuu smiled grimly. Ui simply stood beside him, looking like he was waiting to be dismissed, but the order never came. "I heard he was quite the formidable foe, though. A trait he gets from you?"

Touka grimaced. "No." She stared at Washuu, her expression blank. "You understand the implications of turning ghouls into quinque, don't you, Washuu? You understand what that does, psychologically, to a ghoul?"

"It's a tactic that has been utilized to catch young ghouls before," Washuu said, his expression growing wearier. "Yes."

"Then you know that we ghouls can sense when are parents are near. We can smell them, or feel them. It's difficult to explain the sensation, honestly, but I can't imagine you'd ever be able to understand how nauseating it is to smell your father's cologne wafting from a suit of armor, while your whole body begs for you to run away to shield you, or protect you, or destroy you. You don't know. My skin is _still_ crawling."

"Touka," Kaneki warned, his fingers digging into her shoulder. He couldn't see her face, but he felt her rage, the palpable heat of her fury and disgust as it radiated from her coiled muscles and rolled off her in vicious waves. When he looked at Ui and Washuu, neither of them looked particularly impressed, and Kaneki wished he could shield Touka from the callous nature of the CCG. They did not care that they had killed her father. To them, he had just been another ghoul.

"It's quite alright, Kaneki," Washuu said, looking as amiable as ever even in spite of Touka's chilly words. "Kirishima, I don't imagine my words of remorse would be enough to satisfy your anger and pain at the loss of your father. I remember when Arata was taken down— he was a very powerful ghoul, and we all could recognize that. Are you still willing to work with us, knowing what we've done?"

This was a test.

Kaneki saw it in the man's eyes. Heard it in his voice. He was definitely remorseful— he seemed sincere in his apology. But Washuu Yoshitoki was a multifaceted man. His sincerity did not overshadow his ability to take advantage of a situation and evaluate his options. He was testing Touka's resilience.

And that pissed him off.

Before Kaneki could snap at him, Touka replied dully, "I've been working for you for months now, haven't I?"

Kaneki glanced down at her, unable to hide his shock. Even Yoshitoki looked a bit surprised while Ui's mouth fell open beside him.

"You've known, then?" Washuu blinked, and he chuckled lightly. "You _are_ a strange creature, aren't you? Sit. Let's talk."

Touka shook Kaneki off and strode toward the seats on the other side of the desk. Kaneki cautiously switched places with Washuu, standing beside Ui as the man crossed over to the desk and sat behind it so he faced Touka.

"Okay," Washuu said, setting his briefcase down carefully. "I don't want this to be a stiff, orderly meeting. You are not a businesswoman, Kirishima, nor are you an investigator. You are just a girl who made a very bold decision, and I don't want to insult your sacrifice by ignoring our deal. I do want to keep you safe, Kirishima."

"And what about my family?" Touka asked briskly. "Will you keep them safe?"

"I can try." Washuu looked at her, and his tired eyes were large and earnest. "However, you must know that there are some things that not even I can control. Your brother, the Rabbit, is a very dangerous ghoul. Many in this very building would like nothing more than to kill him themselves for what he's done to this ward."

Kaneki watched Touka shift uncomfortably. He knew she was thinking that her own crimes had been pinned on Ayato, and she could do nothing about it.

"The Rabbit is dead," Touka said smoothly, straightening up and laying her palms on the desk. "Tell them all. The Rabbit died from his wounds at Aogiri. He won't be coming back."

Washuu's lips parted, a half smile forming on them as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"You expect me to lie to my entire company— my entire city, really— when I know for a fact that he is still alive?"

"The Rabbit is dead," Touka repeated. "Trust me. You won't see him again."

Washuu cocked his head. He offered a half-shrug, and lifted a hand dismissively. "Okay," he said. "Ui, did you hear? The Rabbit has been exterminated."

Ui, who had been standing quietly beside Kaneki, looked shocked that he had been addressed so flippantly. "Yes," Ui said, his voice small. "Yes, good riddance. I… I'll deal with the paperwork, sir, and inform Shinohara that he will be given credit for the extermination."

"Very good." Washuu smiled at Touka openly, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. "You are a clever girl. A clever, impulsive, vengeful girl. Tell me, why are you letting us go so easily for the murder of your father?"

Touka leaned back in her seat. She shot a look over her shoulder at Kaneki, and he realized she was asking him for some sort of assistance. Like she didn't quite know her own mind, and couldn't quite say why she was doing what she was doing.

Kaneki stared back at her, his eyes soft and reassuring. He knew he couldn't speak for her, so he smiled at her gently and hoped his gaze could convey what he wanted to say.

 _You can do this_.

Touka turned back to Washuu, and she took a deep breath.

"I've already accepted what happened to my father," she said cautiously, her eyes lowered toward her lap. "I… I can't deny that I hate the CCG for that they've done to me. To the people I love. But I am not my hatred, and I think you've proven that you are not yours either. I can't excuse what you've done, but… I also can't excuse what I've done. I'm sorry. You're right. I'm angry, and I'm vengeful, but I want to be better. If you let me, I can be. And if you let me, so can _you_."

Washuu watched her, and for what Kaneki thought might be the first time, he sat in a speechless silence, watching her with admiration.

He nodded slowly, and then kept nodding, a small smile growing larger on his lips as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a small packet of papers.

"I've been working on this for awhile now," he admitted. "It's still not perfect, and honestly the only lawyer in all of Japan who could support it is the Washuu's own personal attorney, but well, I didn't have the time to go over all the legal intricacies. You technically have no rights, as a ghoul, so your protection can only be achieved through the CCG's system of custody. I'll be taking custody of you."

"Um…" Touka's brow furrowed uncertainly, and she shot Kaneki a questioning look. Kaneki's mouth fell open, and he looked between Washuu and Ui. He had no idea what that meant. "Can I… look at that document before I sign it?"

"Of course." Washuu slid it towards her. "But just know that if you don't sign it, I cannot protect you as I promised."

"Right…" She began to scan to document, and as she did so her expression turned from confused to more confused to positively furious. She slammed the papers back onto the desk and jerked to her feet. "You want me to sign over my entire _body_! You'd effectively own me if I signed this!"

"Yes." Washuu looked tired. "That is, unfortunately, the way we set up the system for keeping ghouls. The ghouls in Cochlea are kept in the custody of the investigators who caught them, who in turn can choose to keep them locked up or have them exterminated. You are not going to Cochlea, Kirishima. You will not be exterminated. Your freedoms will not be as limited as the ghouls who are imprisoned."

"But they'll still be limited," she said coolly.

Washuu's brows raised, and he shrugged. "I can't work magic, my dear," he said. "You are still a ghoul. Even Kaneki is technically in our custody."

"Wait, what?" Kaneki uttered, blinking wildly as he tried to understand the implications of that.

"You were released to Koutarou Amon, were you not, Kaneki?" Washuu smiled grimly. "I requested and approved of your release, but you still had to be put in _someone's_ custody. Koutarou Amon was more than willing to take you."

Kaneki stood silently, trying to process those words and realizing how sick it made him feel. So what, he was someone's property? Amon had never acted like he owned Kaneki, but the thought of it was so strange and othering that Kaneki felt like he needed to sit down.

Touka shook her head fiercely, stepping away from the desk and covering her mouth with her hand. She stared at the document blankly, her hair pooling over her eye and bundling around her fingers.

"We're people," Kaneki said dimly, his voice barely a breath as he stared Washuu down. "We're living, breathing, feeling _people_. You can't _own_ us."

Washuu looked at him softly. It was the softness of pity.

Touka's hand closed against her lips, her fingers grazing the fold of her mouth, and then her teeth biting anxiously on her nail. She averted her eyes sharply, her body tensing up and her breathing coming out short.

"Shit," she murmured.

"This can't be a permanent solution," Kaneki gasped. "You can't just… just keep us like we're some kind of property—!"

"Kaneki," Touka said, "shut up."

Kaneki clamped his mouth shut.

Touka's fingers dragged down from her lips, her eyes flickering sharply to Washuu's face.

"I have one condition," she said.

Kaneki didn't know what to feel. He was still reeling from the knowledge that he'd lost his autonomy months ago without truly even knowing it. And now Touka was signing hers away.

Washuu merely smiled.

"Let's hear it," he said.

Touka took a deep breath. She lowered her hands to her sides and raised her chin high.

"You will give me the Arata quinque," she said, her voice calm and clear. "And with it, the file that details the investigation and extermination of him. I want it all. I want the names of the investigators who did it. I want any of his remains that are left. I want to know when it happened, how it happened, who did it, and how much he suffered. I want it all, Washuu. You won't have me until I get it."

Washuu's smile fell. It was, admittedly, a satisfying sight. Even if Kaneki liked Washuu well enough, this whole situation had gone distinctly sour.

Kaneki supposed it was only natural that this wasn't exactly going their way. After all, Touka had royally fucked things up by coming here and outing herself as a spy prematurely.

"Those are quite the demands." Washuu scratched his cheek again, his expression thoughtful. "Well, they're not unreasonable. Except for the file. How can you guarantee you won't go after the men who killed your father?"

"Because you'll have the power to kill me any time you want," Touka said in a thin, chilly voice. "I did come here for a reason. This is it. This is what I want. You can have the rest."

Washuu smiled. "Fair enough," he said.

"But," Ui objected faintly, "sir— Arata is—"

"Enough, Ui." Washuu did not look at the Associate Special Class investigator while he spoke. "If you would, could you find Shinohara and explain the situation to him? I trust he knows where the file is, as well as where the Arata prototype is."

 _Prototype_ , Kaneki found himself thinking.

Ui eyed Touka distrustfully. He nodded curtly. "Yes, sir," he said.

Kaneki's eyes followed him as he went. He wanted to rush to Touka's side the moment he shut the door, but he restrained himself. There was still danger here.

"After this," Touka said quietly, "am I supposed to just… go back to Aogiri? What if they know?"

"How could they know?" Washuu asked her curiously. "Do you think they have their own spy in the CCG? Even if that was so, I already said I'd take care of it. Nobody will know what happened here today."

Touka didn't look so certain.

"I do mean to protect you," Washuu said gently. " _Both_ of you. But you must be careful. You aren't going to be liked or respected or even _safe_ while you're working for the CCG. We're all working towards something greater, and you two have your own agendas. I only ask that you be careful. There are some things that even I can't save you from."

"Understood," Kaneki said distantly. He was still hung up on the idea that he was someone else's property.

Ui returned soon after with Shinohara in tow. The man held a briefcase and a file, and the moment he stepped into the room, Touka went rigid. Kaneki stepped toward her, but she shot him a look that told him he needed to stand down. Her gaze was as vicious and sharp as a viper's, and he thought she might just snap at him, winding her fingers around his throat and crushing it.

Honestly, he wouldn't even blame her. He was such a masochist. A true glutton for punishment.

"Hello," Shinohara greeted them politely. He bowed his head toward Washuu. "Director."

"Shinohara. I expect Ui told you the situation."

"He did." Shinohara held the briefcase and file in both hands, his eyes flickering cautiously to Touka's. "May I speak freely?"

"It is your quinque, so do as you please."

Shinohara sighed. He shook his head. "I think this is a bad idea," he said. "Giving such a powerful quinque to a ghoul is—"

"That's my father," Touka said, pointing to the briefcase with an expression that was startlingly serene. "I'm not here to use it. I'm not going to do anything with it. I just don't want you to have it."

"That's fair enough," Washuu said brightly, "don't you agree, Shinohara?"

Shinohara merely frowned.

Touka turned toward him, her jaw clenched and her fingers outstretched. Her eyes were on the file.

"I'm sorry," Shinohara said softly, offering out the briefcase and the file. "I know it means nothing to you. I know it sounds empty. But I am deeply, truly sorry for the loss that I have caused you."

Touka watched him wearily. She snatched the briefcase from his fingers and took the file in her free hand.

"So you did kill him," she said, meeting Shinohara's eyes and frowning deeply. Kaneki once more want to rush to her side, and once more decided against it. She set the quinque down, and opened up the file cautiously. She glanced at it. Her entire body stiffened.

"I'm sorry," Shinohara repeated, bowing his head. "I can't give you the justice you want. But if it makes you feel any better, having met you, I— I now have to live with the guilt of knowing what I took away from that man. What I took away from you."

Her jaw jumped, her eyes shadowy as she lowered her head. When she spoke, her voice was small and thin.

"It doesn't make me feel any better," she said, "thanks."

She snapped the file shut, and she swiped at her eyes furiously with her forearm. Mutely, she tossed the file to Kaneki, who caught with haste.

"Mado Kureo…" she said suddenly. Kaneki's eyes shot up, flickering around the room in wonder. Wait, Mado had been the one to kill Touka's father…?

That was… almost poetic.

"An investigator from this branch who was recently killed," Shinohara said cautiously. He looked away sharply. "By the Rabbit, as it happens."

Touka took a deep breath, her eyes staring blankly at the wall for a few seconds. Then the seconds ticked by into a minute. The silence grew, and yet she still stared.

Then, her eyes fell sharply upon Shinohara's face.

"Two of you killed my father," she said. "One of you is dead. You… you at least had the decency to apologize to me. And I hate that." Her hands shook at her sides, her eyes welling up with tears. "I really hate that, because it makes it hard to hate you! Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just say you're sorry and expect me to be okay with what you did!"

"I don't expect your forgiveness," Shinohara said calmly. "I'll be honest. I don't trust you. I don't think you can blame me for that, just as I can't blame you for hating me. And I truly am sorry for the pain I've caused you, because I have seen what becomes of children who have had their parents ripped from them. Ghouls… I've always had this idea that ghouls were fundamentally different, that they simply aren't capable of feeling the same feelings as humans. That they're more susceptible to psychosis, that they're more violent, that they are innately bad. But I think it might be a case of nature versus nurture. How did your father raise you, Kirishima?"

Touka's face, which was partially hidden from Kaneki, was clearly wet with tears. He didn't know if they were from anger or despair.

"He raised me to love humans," she said quietly.

"He— excuse me?" Whatever Shinohara was expecting, it was not this. In fact, Kaneki saw every face in the room crumble in confusion. "Love…?"

"My father loved humans," Touka murmured, her voice shaky. "He always admired them, and told us to always be kind to them, and to eat the food they gave us even if it made us sick. He used to make food for our neighbors, and he… he liked to read and study, I— I don't remember. I think he was studying to go to college for something. It was a long time ago." She took a deep breath, and she raised her eyes defiantly to Shinohara's. "You can be disgusted at how ghouls "pretend" to act human all you want, but you'll never know how much my father loved and admired you. And you still killed him."

Shinohara said nothing. It was like he had nothing he could say, or he was scared to say what he wanted to. The air was heavy as Touka's words settled, and Kaneki felt them. He knew. They all knew.

Touka was being sincere. They had killed an honest, peace loving man.

She picked up the briefcase and popped it open. She took one look inside, and she immediately snapped it shut again, her eyes squeezing shut.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Washuu. I'm ready to sign."

"I'm glad." Washuu had already prepared a pen for her. She moved toward the desk, the briefcase held loosely in her left hand. Kaneki watched mutely as she signed away her future without hesitation.

When it was done, Touka took the file from Kaneki, and she paused. She turned to look up at Shinohara.

"Did Mado Kureo have any children?" she asked.

Kaneki's eyes widened. _Why?_ He thought numbly. _Why is she torturing herself?_

Shinohara blinked. He nodded cautiously. "A daughter," he said. Kaneki watched Touka's head lower. Her hair curtained her face. "Mado Akira."

"Mado Akira," Touka muttered. "Right. Thanks."

"I don't suppose you'll be looking her up for a friendly chat," Ui said dryly.

"I was just wondering." Touka tapped her thumb against the handle of the briefcase. "It sucks. Not having a father. And it's hard to feel validated with a man's death when you know that you're only perpetuating a bloody cycle. I don't want to play fate's game, and make people hurt the way I've been hurt. It's not fair to Mado Akira that her father was…" Touka didn't say the word. _Monster_. Her brow furrowed, and she blinked up at Shinohara. "He was human. And now he's dead. I'm sorry for that too."

Kaneki watched Touka, his admiration for her soaring. She was apologizing for Mado's death— Mado, who would have killed her and Hinami and Kaneki without thought or remorse.

It must be very hard for her to say these things.

Kaneki could feel the strain in her— he heard it in her voice.

"Can I leave?" she asked Washuu sharply.

The man watched her. "I don't see why not," he said. "Though it might be best if you leave with an investigator. Ui—"

"If you need me under armed guard, you can at least give me someone I like," Touka snapped.

"Oh?" Washuu seemed unfazed by her outburst. "Would you like Kaneki to escort you then? I was hoping to speak with him privately."

Touka made a face, and she eyed Kaneki. "No," she said. "You can keep him. I want Mutsuki to walk me home."

"Mutsuki Tooru?" Shinohara asked, sounding shocked. "That boy… are you sure?"

"You saved him," Ui said suddenly. All eyes flashed suddenly to him. It was easy to forget he was there, which made it perfect for him to come to this conclusion naturally. He'd observed everything here. He was a smart man, and now he knew. "You released him from Aogiri and helped him escape during the raid. That's why he was unaccounted for."

Touka said nothing. She merely stared at him.

"Go on," Washuu said. "I have nothing wrong with you stealing Mutsuki away for a bit. He's been through a rough time, and I'm sure he could use the company."

"Thank you." Touka didn't look at anyone as she clutched the briefcase and the file and walked briskly from the room. Kaneki wanted to reach after her, to give her one last hand squeeze, or maybe even a hug.

But he was destined to be disappointed.

So he was left with three faces, all of them falling upon Kaneki expectantly.

"Uh…" he said, laughing nervously. "So, um… that was Touka."

"You and that girl are very similar," Shinohara said. His eyes were tired, and his voice was dark. "I'm not sure if that is a good thing or not."

"I personally don't think it was wise, giving her the quinque and the file," Ui said. "What if she comes for Shinohara? She obviously doesn't care if she dies or not, or else she wouldn't have come here."

"On the contrary, Ui, I think she cares quite a bit." Washuu stood up from Shinohara's desk, setting the contract Touka had signed into his briefcase. "She cares about herself, her feelings, her family, and of course Kaneki."

"Unfortunately," Kaneki said weakly, "the last one isn't all that true. She considers me a really unfortunate acquaintance."

"And you consider her to be much more than that, is that it?" Washuu's smirk was too bright and too knowing. Kaneki scowled.

"That's not it," Kaneki countered. "It's not like that. I just—"

"I'm only teasing you," Washuu said, clapping a hand on Kaneki's shoulder. "Lighten up, Kaneki. The way you look at her, I'm sure she'll come around eventually."

"That really _isn't_ —!"

"Well, that was very exciting, don't you think?" Washuu strode toward the door, and he glanced back at Kaneki. "Arrange for Kirishima to get back in with Aogiri within a week or two. She's less of a well kept secret now, so we'll try other methods of communication with her to keep things moving. That means your contact with her might be limited."

Kaneki bristled. Washuu watched with a shocking amount of interest, and his smirk only widened.

"It isn't what, you said?" Washuu winked at Kaneki, and did not wait for an answer. "Call me. I want to work out the details of her second infiltration so they don't suspect anything."

And with that, he left.

Ui straightened up, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I'll be leaving as well," he said, nodding curtly at Shinohara and Kaneki. "This isn't my jurisdiction. You understand. I feel as though I wasn't even supposed to be here."

"I'm glad it was you," Kaneki said earnestly. _And not Arima_.

Ui looked honestly taken aback, and he studied Kaneki closely. "Right…" he said. "Well, until another day, I guess. Goodbye."

That left Kaneki and Shinohara.

Kaneki lowered his head. Shinohara simply stared at him. He moved toward the door. Without a word, he closed it.

"That girl," he said, not looking Kaneki in the eye. "She was the Rabbit, wasn't she?"

Kaneki's eyes widened.

"She— no, she—!" he stammered.

Shinohara turned to look at Kaneki tiredly. "I won't tell anyone," he said. "The Rabbit is dead. So she said. So it is. I… I just wanted to know. The way she spoke about Mado— the look in her eye when she saw his photo." He shook his head. "She's guilty about it. That's why she asked about his daughter. I can't blame her for it. Mado… had a way with making enemies."

"Are you justifying her actions?" Kaneki asked cautiously. Curiously.

"I'd never wish that fate upon one of my friends," Shinohara said briskly. "Especially not such a fine investigator. But… that doesn't mean that her father… or that Fueguchi woman… that they deserved the fates Mado delivered. The world isn't in black and white, and I can recognize that. But every day it becomes harder to justify the cost, and harder to pretend that our enemies aren't thinking, feeling beings, as Kirishima said."

"But you exterminated Touka's father just as much as Mado," Kaneki gasped. "You're complicit in that! You can't criticize an investigator when you yourself—!"

"No," Shinohara cut in sharply. "You're right. I've done terrible things. Not just to Touka's family, but to others. I've wiped out families. And then I go back to my own family. And I smile. And I forget." Shinohara closed his eyes. He rested his head against the door, and he sighed. "I think it would be fair for you to ask, Kaneki, who the monsters are here. Just this once."

Kaneki found himself drowning in sympathy for this man. He reached out, and he touched Shinohara's shoulder gently.

"You are not a monster," he said.

Shinohara raised his eyes to him.

"Neither are you," he said quietly. "But the world may not share my opinion. You are treading where the ice is thin, Kaneki. I only hope one of us can catch you before you fall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mimula, mimulae.  
> miserable little actress.


	38. intono

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh, i was really nervous about last chapter because i thought the situation might seem silly or forced, so thank you everyone who commented! im glad it turned out okay. enjoy!

The city lights were glittering like precious stones under dazzling sunlight, pockets of yellow gleaming madly like the wink of an owl's eye, ripples of blue as dazzling as the current of a stream, and bold ribbons of red as rich and deep as fresh blood veining the Tokyo skyline. It all danced, changing with the direction of the wind around her.

The night was so beautiful that she could almost cry.

While words fell, drops of rain dipping into a vast ocean of silence, she considered her own role in all of this. A puppet king, destined to be nothing more than a phrase, a figure, a myth. She heard herself in whispers, and she knew herself in legend, and she saw herself in the rising tide of anarchy that shifted and shuffled along the underground.

She recognized herself in the words of others, a modern demigod performing miracles without breaking a sweat. She recognized the fallacy in that fact, that myths never end happily, and she was as much of a victim of fate and hubris as any tragic hero.

Every time she thinks she's free, the world drags her back into madness with more pain and more heartache and more fury than she can contain. She was not made for moving on, and she was not made for civility, and she was not made for forgiveness.

She would drink in the pain of others and let it be the blood that pumped through her.

If it was strength she needed, she would tear the sun from the sky to get it.

Even if that meant plummeting. Even if that meant letting the pressure peel her skin and muscle and veins back from her very bones, and let the ocean swallow her up and bury her skeleton in silt and sand.

Even if it meant dying before the day was won.

Falling did not mean failing, after all.

Beside her, a man watched, unfazed by her small voice riddling away at nothing at all. Her words, her rhymes, her fickle poetry, it meant nothing to him. He stood beside her because he believed. He agreed. Falling did not mean failing.

_Let's risk our lives, let's throw in our lot. Let us see, me and you, you and me, what sort of world this can be._

"You understand what we've lost," Tatara said, "don't you?"

"Mm…" She crouched on the roof's ledge, her eyes following the steady streams of light that floated up from the city, brushing the sky like clouds of breath. "The Bin Brothers… the Kirishima siblings… those _are_ some unfortunate losses. I did like them."

"It's not just them," Tatara reminded her. "We were not prepared for the doves to strike when they did, and we didn't have enough men to ambush Cochlea. Your plan failed."

"It hasn't failed yet."

"Our numbers have dwindled, our members are scattered, and our strongest are dead, fled, or beyond saving. What do you suggest? Carrying out the plan with just you and I and Noro?"

"We have others," she said breezily. "We can mobilize quite easily— everyone worth anything knew we had another base lined up for when the doves came. Yes, they came earlier than expected. That was Yamori's fault."

"Did you know?" Tatara's cool gaze fell on her face. "Did you know that giving the ghoul-dove to Yamori would escalate the dove's invasion, as Kirishima did?"

"Do you think she knew that?" she asked curiously. "I wish I could talk with her, but I don't think she likes us much. Anyway, no, I didn't know. Would we be here if I knew? No. We'd be at Cochlea. Silly, Tatara. I'm not omniscient."

Tatara shook his head. "She knew… something. I'm not sure what, but she was clearly defensive of the ghoul-dove from the start. Ayato often complained that she was too soft. I might have to agree."

"Having compassion doesn't mean she's soft," she said with an amused smirk. "It's admirable, really. A touch of kindness can go a long way. That boy would probably follow her to the ends of the earth now that she saved him. I bet he'd even betray the doves for her. It's a shame, what happened to Ayato. Really, she'd be a great asset to have."

"I don't see why Ayato's infirmity affects her ability to fight."

"Well, that's just the problem, isn't it?" She sighed wistfully, bobbing her head along with the wind. Her hood was sliding off her bandaged head. "She's not soft, but she does care a bit too much, if you get me? I don't envy that— that stubborn love that causes her to cling to people like they keep her alive. No, I don't think she'll be leaving Ayato's side for a while."

"A pity."

"Yes," she said sadly, "truly."

"And," Tatara said, "Kaneki Ken?"

She smirked. The bite of the winter wind toyed with the ears of her hood, seeping through the folds of her bandages and gnawing at her skin. In her mind she saw the dove-made-ghoul— Mutsuki's tired, fearful face seared into the backs of her eyelids. She saw a photograph, a timid boy who smiled sheepishly at a camera and had been a part of some freak accident. She saw her own face, a decade younger and none the wiser, oversized sweater sleeves sloughing off her hands as she puzzled over a mountain of books.

"He makes me wonder." She raised her eyes to Tatara, head tilting and cheek resting soundly against her shoulder. "What is he up to? Why is he with the doves? Should we be worried? I've thought about it, you know, and I can't say that he doesn't intrigue me. I know nothing about him, but I'm drawn to him. More so than with the dove we had tortured, Mutsuki. In the grand scheme, it feels like I've stumbled upon a diamond in the rough— a prince in rags, you could say. Something Arthurian, a king made by magic and fate. Oh, you don't really care about my ramblings, do you, Tatara? All you care about is if he poses a threat."

"And does he?" Tatara was as stone-faced and unamused as ever. She could ramble on forever to him, and he'd give her the same old piercing stare.

"How should I know?" Eto replied pleasantly. "I've never met him. I guess it doesn't hurt to be safe, though."

"Then we'll have someone observe him," Tatara said, "once we get everything in order again."

"Yes," Eto agreed. She agreed, because the challenge presented before her was too enticing. A boy turned ghoul, timid and doe-eyed, suddenly becoming something to her. Not anything meaningful, but an obstacle at the very least and a formidable foe at the very most. She was excited at the thought of a real threat, someone with the gall and the stomach to take on the one eyed king.

Maybe even kill her and take her mantle.

It shouldn't have filled her with so much delight, but the thought fueled her. She saw the city before her, twinkling madly like ancient civilizations ablaze, and she recognized her place in an inevitable stream of one eyed ghouls wreaking havoc upon civilization.

One eyed kings would plague history for eternity, if she could help it.

"Given enough time and pressure," Eto said, "even the tallest walls crumble. Isn't that right?"

Tatara eyed her. He turned away.

"I suppose," he replied.

"Unless of course," Eto continued, "you knock it down."

Tatara glanced down at her, their eyes meeting sharply. They had come to an understanding.

"We will do what we can," Tatara said. "No more and no less. Agreed?"

Eto smiled a simple smirk that not a soul could see.

* * *

Ayato had slept fitfully that night. Tossing and turning and tangling himself up in a cocoon of sheets, his fingers flying out erratically during the night and lingering in the air, grasping at nothing. Touka was nowhere to be found. She had not come home, and he was delirious in his panic and guilt and disgust. Part of him wanted her to never come back, while another part was sick on the thought that something terrible had happened to her.

 _You did this_ , a terrible, whispery voice inside his head insisted. _You gave her a reason to leave. You gave her a reason to hate you. There's only one person in the whole wide world who cares about if you live or if you die, and you_ _ **pushed them away**_ _!_

He was sick. Sick and sicker, his body consumed by night sweat and his eyes blinking in the dark. His stomach was knotted and his chest was constricted and nothing, _nothing_ could save him from the berating force of his own foul thoughts. They battered like hail against his brain. They locked him out of his own heart and laughed while his emotions dissipated without a shell to house them.

At one point he found himself bolting upright, a scream perched on the tip of his tongue, and he toppled out of bed. A tangle of limbs on the floor, he curled up, struggling to get a good gulp of air in the shivery darkness.

As he curled, struggling to find himself in his desperate frenzy of selfish and self-loathing thoughts, the door burst open.

The sudden light, a great shaft of it falling in from the living room, was blinding. He shrunk back, skittering against the floor as soft footfalls frantically beat at the floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a warm shadow falling over him as he shivered and shrank. He was dissolving into the darkness.

"Ayato!" The voice was small and shrill, childlike in nature as it pierced the endless mutterings of his head, batting away the snickering voice that sang _she hates you, she hates you, she hates you_ over and over and over again. " _Ayato_! Look at me, okay? Okay? Come on, please—!"

"Stop screaming," he murmured, shrinking further into the dark. "Please… please… quiet…"

The girl… Hinami, she shut up quick, her body frozen beside him. She waited patiently as he made an effort to gather his thoughts. It took a while. It was a painstaking process, plucking up the pieces of a shattered mind.

He didn't know how long it had been before he finally sat up, but the first few silver rays of daylight had crept in through the window. In the dim morning, he saw Hinami's shadowy face, young and creased with unparalleled worry.

His fingers shakily fell into his hair, raking it back from his eyes and cupping his temples hopelessly. "Shit…" he murmured. His mind was falling back into place, but it felt like it was taking an eternity for him to process his surroundings.

Hinami didn't respond. She sat beside him on the floor, hardly budging, hardly making a sound to suggest she was living. She simply watched him.

Ayato leaned heavily against the side of his bed, dragging his hands down his face. "Where is she…?" He heard the ache in his voice more than he felt it. "Why did she…?"

He knew why.

"I don't know." Hinami's voice was far stronger than his. She did not touch him again, or get any closer than him, but she did continue to sit and absorb the silence.

"This isn't fair," he said, not for the first time. His hands were over his eyes, and he wanted to scream and thrash, but he had gotten ahold of his mind and after a night of fitful wandering, his heart let him back in. "It's— it's just— I know I've made mistakes, but did I deserve _this_?"

"I don't know," Hinami repeated, this time softer. Shadows skittered across the floor, seeping into the floorboards and retreating beneath his bed as sunlight began to swell across the room.

"You're no help at all," he whispered ruefully.

Hinami blinked at him, white spools of sunrays catching her dark hair and illuminating her skin. She looked away sharply.

"Do you want me to leave, then?" she asked. She didn't sound angry or hurt by his words, which was probably the most shocking thing. He had not thought when he had spoken, but now he considered and compared, his words to hers, and he was overcome by sadness.

"No," he croaked.

"No?" Hinami's brow furrowed. "No, you want me to stay?"

"Yes…"

Hinami sighed. And then, brightly, she smiled at him. "Well," she sighed, "then I'll stay! As long as you want me to, that is."

"Ehh…" Ayato shifted uncomfortably, eying the girl with varying degrees of distrust. "Don't get too comfortable."

"Right."

They sat, a somber silence falling between them. All in all, dawn brought him back from the depths of his despair, and all he could do was take that in. He was frightened. The world seemed too vast, and he felt too fragile, and every time he thought he could go it alone his worthless head filled him with only thoughts of rage and bitterness. He couldn't escape from his own mistakes.

In the end it didn't matter. The front door creaked open after an hour or so, and that caused Hinami and Ayato to blink at each other wildly. Hinami leapt to her feet and darted out the door, her eyes wide with delight.

"Touka—!"

He voice cut off in alarm, causing Ayato to jerk unsteadily to his feet and rush to the doorway beside her.

An uncomfortable feeling came over him, familiar in nature as it crawled over his skin and burrowed deep into his heart. His eyes flickered anxiously toward the door, and he jerked back at the sight of a man he did not recognize holding a briefcase.

It was impulse that drove him forward and impulse that kept him going. He vaulted over the couch, feet flying from the table's surface and driving heel first into the man's jaw. He buckled, half crashing into a wall, his briefcase clattering against the floor. When Ayato landed, he drew back for just a moment to catch his breath before he jammed his elbow into the man's gut.

Hinami's screams fell to deaf ears.

There was no containing this rage. It lived in him. It became him.

The man caught his wrist before he could deliver a third blow, twisting him around and slamming him into the wall.

"Ayato—!" the man began. Ayato twisted, his back screaming in protest at the uncomfortable positioning of his spine as he hooked his foot around the man's knee and forced him back with all his strength. They both went toppling into the floor.

The man was pried from him by a pair of quick hands, his body dragged from beneath his fist which had come back from the man's face gnarled and bloody.

"Ayato!" Like the throttling of heat against metal pipes, Hinami repeated his name, her small arms circled beneath his arms as he flailed and writhed. "Ayato! Stop it, stop it, _stop_!"

It was only when her voice broke, the whole room filled with her unbearable shrieks, that his muscles went limp. Now the only sound was Hinami's sobs.

"You…" Ayato sputtered weakly, falling back into Hinami's arms and taking great gulps of oxygen. "You—!"

"Shit, man…" There was another man in the room that Ayato had not noticed, this one someone he recognized. It was the boy he had seen Hinami interact with the day before. He was supporting the man that Ayato had attacked, gripping his bicep and blinking wildly at his bloody face. "Shit… bro, you've got a little—!"

"Shuddap, Hide," the injured man managed to gurgle through a mouthful of blood. Ayato watched rivulets dribble from his lips, down his chin, and plop into the tile.

Hinami was still sobbing into his back.

"Hey…" Ayato swallowed hard, twisting his head to glance back at her guiltily. "Hey, quit crying…"

Hinami silenced herself abruptly, her sobs cut off with a distinct _gulp_. And then, hastily, she unraveled her arms from his and stood up. He half fell backwards without her support.

"You didn't have to do that!" Hinami cried, her small face splotchy and red from the fat tears that still welled up in her eyes. "Kaneki is a _friend_ , Ayato— _Touka's_ friend! And— and look! Look at what you did!"

"It's just a little bloody nose," Ayato muttered. "Jeez. He's the one who came in here looking like a goddamn dove!"

"He's got you there, buddy," Hide laughed, elbowing the man, Kaneki. Kaneki merely nursed his nosebleed in a somber silence.

"You aren't angry?" Hinami asked breathlessly. "But… big bro, he attacked your friend…"

"Yeah, well…" Hide scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "He probably deserved at least a little bit of that beating. Don't ya think, Kaneki?"

Kaneki lifted his bloody hand and smacked Hide across the cheek. It was a light, almost playful slap, but it left a bloody handprint that looked rather menacing.

"Hide…" Hinami looked unsure, her eyes darting between Kaneki and Ayato. "What happened? Why are you both here so… so early, I mean… you never…"

Kaneki said something that was muffled by his hand and all the blood coagulating in his mouth. Hide stood up and went to fetch a rag, speaking pretty flippantly on his way.

"To be honest, collectively I think everyone in this room has gotten like three hours of sleep this week, so I don't think the early hour is even a question at this point." Hide had a jaunty way of speaking, and a jaunty way of walking, and a jaunty way of presenting himself in general. It was a little too bright to look at, especially for Ayato, who was a moody person in general. "As for why Kaneki's with me— well, it is a shocker, isn't it? Getting him to go anywhere anymore is like pulling teeth."

"Hide…" Hinami sighed. Hide returned with a dishrag filled with ice.

"Sorry, Hina." Hide smiled at her gently, handing off the rag to Kaneki, who took it gladly. "Kaneki is here on Touka's behalf."

"What did you say?" Ayato snapped.

"Chill," Hide remarked gently, holding his hands up in defense. "We come in peace. And she's fine, for the most part. I think she just needs time to cool off."

"What the hell does that mean?" Ayato's blood was boiling, his breath short and his mind reeling. He thought about all the terrible things he said to her, and that made him fidget uncomfortably.

"Touka," Kaneki said, lifting the blood soaked rag from his red smeared face, "is very upset right now. About a lot of things. She debated about coming herself, but ultimately…" His words were beginning to slur together, and he sniffed. "I think she just needs time away from here."

"Away from me, you mean."

"Ayato…" Hinami started, laying a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off. She still had tears in her eyes, and he knew he'd made it worse without even looking at her.

"Fine," Ayato said sharply. "That's just fine. She can do whatever she wants. I'm not her goddamn keeper. But that doesn't explain why _you're_ here."

Kaneki and Hide shared a knowing glance. Ayato felt it in the depths of his bones, how incredibly pivotal this would be. Without another word, Kaneki kicked the briefcase to Ayato.

Ayato sat and considered it for a moment. The sense of longing and despair that lingered in the air was getting to him. He was overrun by his senses, and the briefcase did not help dampen any of it. In fact, the awful feeling he got by being in its presence was amplified the moment it was kicked toward him.

"That… that's not…" He looked up at Kaneki, who sat across from him with a somber expression. His nose and mouth were stained red. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm just the messenger." Kaneki brought the rag back to his lips, staunching another stream of blood that began to trickle from his left nostril.

It wasn't like Ayato could do any more damage than he had already. He'd already screamed, and he'd already fought, and now there was nothing left for him to do but sit and stare. The regret was welling up inside him, an agonizing knot of terror and sorrow that he could not quell. Screaming did nothing. Fighting did nothing. He was lost.

He was lost to Touka. He was lost to himself.

His fingers closed cautiously around the briefcase.

Even to his father, he was lost.

"How did you get this away from the doves?" he whispered.

Hide opened his mouth to respond, most likely in a rather cheery voice, but Kaneki replied first.

"Your sister." It was a cold and callous reply. He looked at Ayato like he would leave him naked in the middle of a snow storm if given the chance. "She made a Faustian bargain. Now she pays the debt, and you get the reward. You better cherish that."

Ayato did not reply. He simply snatched the briefcase and fled into his room, slamming the door shut behind him and sinking to the floor. He clutched his father's quinque close to him, dragging it to his chest and hugging it tight. When he closed his eyes, if he closed his eyes, he could imagine that his father was there. That Touka didn't hate him. That all could be well again.

But then he opened his eyes.

Reality was a harsh condition to face. It fed on broken dreams, soaked up all the fear and pain.

And he would face it. He had to.

It didn't make this any easier.

When he bowed his head, a sob crawled up his throat and threatened to strangle him right then and there. He held the quinque closer, and he bit his tongue.

 _Dad,_ he thought desperately _, dad please, please, I don't know how to exist anymore. I'm all fucked up, I don't know if I want to exist anymore. Please… please… I want you here… I want our family back… I want… I want… I want…_

All his desperate longings burned inside him. Soon, they would be nothing but ash.

* * *

She woke, inexplicably, to an unfamiliar room. Shades were drawn over a quaint little window, slivers of sunlight creating prison bars on the opposite wall. She watched mutely as dust swirled in the silvery shafts, glowing like glitter until the air shifted the particles out of view.

She took a deep breath, the events of yesterday filling up her head and causing her to wince. Damn. She was the biggest idiot in all the world, it seemed. A real glutton for punishment.

Lying there, letting herself stare at the opposite wall, swaddled in soft blankets, she could imagine her life was different. Just for a little while, she could delude herself into thinking that she was normal, that she was human, that she had to get up and go to school, that this was her home, that it was possible to have a home. That someone was waiting for her outside the door and hope she had a good day.

It was foolish, but she clung to that with all her might.

When the days grew long, and her life grew short, would she look back on this morning and think, _I lived, at least, for a single day_?

It was hard to accept that she was leaving again.

Even harder to accept what she had given away to get here.

 _I'm not even a person anymore_ , she found herself thinking, eyes glued to the prison bar walls, _am I?_

When you don't own yourself, who was the master of your fate? There was no god here. There was no Kirishima Touka, either. Rabbit was dead, and the doves were swarming.

Who was she now? An ugly thing, made of feathers and twine, made of stars and chains? She had never felt a loss like this before. It was hard to lose a father, and it was hard to lose a friend, and it hurt to lose a brother to his demons, but she had never considered how awful it could be to lose yourself.

She drank in the sight of prison bar sunlight and glittery dust. Like it was the last sight she would ever see.

Then, she rose from the bed, and she told herself that she was no different than she was the day before. No scrap of paper could decide her personhood.

And that was that.

She stepped out of the room to a somewhat spacious living room. She had been here before, she knew. Once, when she had tried to get Hide to take Hinami in. Well, he had no interest in having Hinami stay with him, but he'd been perfectly fine with her staying the night. Incredible.

It became apparent that no one was actually home, so she took the opportunity to get a look around. There was a television with a stack of movies settled on top of it. There was a stereo, an old one, with a small swerving rack of cassette tapes. She thumbed through them idly before moving on to the old record player on the shelf above the television. She opened its lid and examined the inside. Shockingly, it was not dusty at all, and the record that was already inside appeared to be something a bit more modern than what she'd expected. She turned it on and lifted the needle, plopping it onto the quickly spinning vinyl.

It was a foreign song. Something American, most likely, with a bluesy undertone that rocked the room back and forth like a cradle. Touka listened for a moment, unable to recognize any of the words, before she moved on.

There were coffee cans everywhere, and tons of books littering the floor and tables. She found herself examining a book about ghouls that sat on a sofa, before tossing it away. She found another book on the rug beside the coffee table, and when she picked it up she found that it was a book about the interrogation tactics of World War II soldiers. She set that aside, feeling a little uneasy. A jaunty tune floated from the record player, bouncing wildly across the room.

Hide had always made it sound like he never read anything, but his apartment was brimming with books. It was strange enough just to see the incredible mess of books he had littered around the room, but when she looked at the titles it just got stranger.

Her snooping became a little more invasive as she entered the hallway and found herself staring into a study. She glanced over her shoulder at the door, and she entered quietly, noting that this room was far less lived in than the rest of the apartment. There was a fine layer of dust building on the neatly assembled bookcase, and the desk appeared to be cleaned off and devoid of any sort of personal affects.

The first thing she did was go to the bookcase. There were encyclopedias. She quirked an eyebrow at them, unable to imagine Hide sitting still long enough to read the cover page of _one_ of these books. There were some classics— she spotted the _Iliad_ , worn and well read, with a broken spine and faded inscriptions. Then she spotted a peculiarly shaped book that had been wedged between a dictionary and a book about the Shogunate, specifically the Edo period. She realized what it was almost immediately.

The photo album was pretty. It was leather bound, like a vintage library book, and it had gold enameled corners.

When she flipped it open, the first page bore a picture of a chubby baby with big tawny eyes, rosy cheeks, and a tuft of dark hair capping his small head. Underneath, characters aligned to spell out his name.

_**HIDEYOSHI** _

There was no family name before it, simply a strangely indented given name, as though the letters for Nagachika had been removed afterwards. Touka flipped the page carefully. The next picture was Hide again, still a baby, still chubby and happy. He was swaddled in all white, stubby fingers peeking through the cradle toward the camera. Touka couldn't help but smile. The next picture was still Hide. He was bigger, more dark hair swirling upon his crown, and his fat face bore a familiar smile.

Hide had a face, it seemed, that did not change. If she had seen this picture outside the photo album by chance, she would have known it was Hide in a heartbeat.

She flipped the page, and she paused.

The next picture was Hide again, but there was another person there this time. The fat, jolly toddler had his little arms hooked around an older boy's neck, forehead pressed to cheek, face flushed with delight. The boy who held him appeared to be six or seven, a little gawky looking with a long face and neatly cropped hair. His eyes were closed, his mouth half open in shared delight, one arm holding Hide steady and the other with a hand cupping the back of Hide's head.

She stared at it. She brought the photo album over to the desk, and she sat down heavily.

The photo nor the album in question gave her any indication of who the boy was. He could be anyone— a distant relative, a cousin or a family friend perhaps— but there was something about the way the boy held Hide that got to her. She probably wouldn't have thought much about it if it weren't for the fact that she had been spending so much time with Ayato lately. But this boy's face… she couldn't place it. There was a familiarity to the way he held Hide, something she recognized, something that she felt like she could sympathize with. The joy in their faces also made her wonder about the nature of the photo.

She _could_ always ask Hide, but she didn't want him to know she'd been snooping around his things… even though she knew he wouldn't actually care.

Cautiously, she focused on the next photo. Simple. Another Hide, but bigger this time. He was standing by himself. His face was half turned away from the camera, and he held something in his hands like a crumpled drawing or letter. For the first time in the album, Hide didn't look like Hide. He wasn't smiling.

Nor was he smiling in the next photo.

Touka found, with an increasing discomfort, that the deeper she got into the album, the older that Hide looked, the more miserable he became. She watched his smile completely drift away from his face. As a toddler, he was a somber little thing, hiding behind a violin bow and giving the camera vacant stares. With every photograph, Touka watched the light leave Hide's eyes.

Until he was nothing but a husk.

And then, there was nothing at all.

Touka flipped a page, and suddenly there were no more pictures.

She blinked, doubling back to make sure she hadn't missed a page. But it was true. The photo album stopped abruptly after Hide's sixth birthday. She wondered if all the rest of the photos had been removed, or if Hide's mother had just lost interest.

The last picture was of Hide standing alone before a cake, the single candle with a bold number 6 reflecting glassily in his dim eyes. His hair was cropped closely to his head, much like the boy in the other picture had worn his hair, and he looked at the camera like he was a death row convict getting served his last meal.

She folded her hands over her mouth, staring into young Hide's soulless brown eyes, and she found herself violently unnerved.

"Did you get to the one where I caught a baseball with my mouth?"

Touka jumped, her chair sliding back sharply and screeching in protest against the wooden floor. Hide stood in the doorway, watching her with a single raised eyebrow, and a sort of knowing smirk that made her hair stand on end.

She swallowed hard, and she stood abruptly.

"I'm sorry." She lowered her head into a sharp bow, shame creeping through her and threatening to burn her alive. "I got bored and I— it was open."

"The photo album?" Hide pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room. "You sure about that? 'Cause I'm pretty sure no one has touched it for years."

"No, I meant—"

"I'm just busting your ass," Hide laughed, nudging her shoulder gently. She scrambled back. He looked at her, his eyes widening as though he recognized his own mistake, and his eyes softened. "It's just a bunch of baby pictures. Nothing to get worked up about."

Touka frowned, trying to find the words to describe how sorry she really was. But she decided not to apologize, in the end. Instead she went with, "When the hell did you even get back?"

Hide laughed again, hopping up onto the desk beside the album and shrugging. "Uh," he said, "like five minutes ago? Kaneki's in my room, trying to find a decent dress shirt for work."

"Why doesn't he just use his own?"

"Because he only owns one, I believe," Hide said coyly, "and that one has blood all over it."

"Blood?"

"Your brother attacked him."

" _What_?" Touka clapped her forehead in dismay. "He— damn it, Ayato… I'm sorry, Hide, I should have just brought it to him myself."

"No, no," Hide gasped, waving his hands before him hastily. "I get it. Not wanting to see him, I mean. You're leaving him again, and he's mad at you, and you didn't want to have to deal with it. It was probably the better call, in the end. He would have asked you how you got the quinque in the first place, and I don't think either of you are ready to explain that you sold yourself out to the CCG."

"Ugh…" Touka drew her hand down her face wearily. "Don't remind me."

Hide smiled at her warmly. "I'm sure it'll be okay," he offered her gently.

"I don't know. I don't really trust that Washuu guy…"

"I'm sure it'll be okay," he repeated.

Touka merely shook her head.

Hide looked down at the photo album. His face fell.

"Ew," he said. "What an awful picture. Why do I look so miserable?"

"You look miserable in most of these photos," Touka said, not meeting his eye, "Hide."

"Hm?" He looked honestly surprised to hear her say that, and he looked down at the album again. "Do I? Shit!" He scooped the album into his lap and began flipping backwards. "I do, don't I? Aw, I was cute though, don't you think, Touka?"

That eerily familiar ring of _Touka-chan_ wasn't so nauseating as it usually was. She even offered him a small smile in response.

"What happened?" she asked wryly.

Hide shrugged merrily. "Stress wrinkles," he admitted, "old age. A divorce."

She had a feeling that last one was a little too true to life, if his sudden bitter tone was anything to go by.

"Sorry…" Touka shook her head. "You don't actually have to talk about it, like… I know I'm prying."

Hide studied her for a moment. He smiled, and he looked back down at the album.

"This was before the divorce," he said. "I don't remember it very well, honestly, and I'm kinda glad I don't. There was just… a lot. A lot of things that I was expected to do and be good at, a lot of secrets I was expected to keep, a lot of arguments that did not get shielded from me. Like I said, I don't remember much of it, but it's hard to forget all that screaming." He considered his words for a moment, and added brightly, "I actually used to hide in here, I think!"

"Hide?"

"Yeah, under the desk."

"Why did you feel the need to… to hide…?"

"It scared me," he said simply.

It was an innocent enough response.

"That's sad," she remarked.

He tilted his head. "No," he said. "I can think of sadder things than that."

"Life isn't a contest to see who has a sadder backstory, Hide."

He cracked a smile at that. "Oh, you'd be surprised."

She smiled back hesitantly. And then she turned away. "I'm going to go find Kaneki," she said. "I can't imagine you have many dress shirts, so he's probably having a hard time."

"Probably."

She made it halfway down the hallway before she heard the soft sound of plastic peeling back. She backtracked, and she peeked into the study quietly.

Hide stood hunched over the desk, his back to her. She watched him pull a photo from the album and pocket it.

After that, she quickly retreated back towards where she assumed Hide's room was. It took a few tries to get the door right, but eventually she walked in on a half-dressed Kaneki.

Incredible.

"Um…" He held two shirts in his hands, one a deep red hue and the other white with _splotches_ of deep red. His abdomen was unusually scrawny, though he did appear to have some muscle even on his emaciated frame. That was honestly the most shocking thing about the entire sight. "Hi."

She folded her arms across her chest. He continued to watch her expectantly.

"What?" She frowned at him. "Do you except me to like, blush or stammer or run out of here like we're in some shoujo manga? Put a shirt on and sit down, I want to talk to you."

He turned his face away as if trying to hide the sudden smile that graced his face. _That_ made her feel more flustered than his lack of dress. Why the hell was he smiling?

"Okay." He obeyed her without another word, tossing the bloody shirt aside and pulling on Hide's red shirt. It was a surprisingly decent fit, though it seemed a little big around the waist.

Hide's room was as confusing and convoluted as the rest of his apartment. He had another television in here, this one across from his bed, which was unmade and strewn with clothing. There were articles taped to the walls, as well as band posters and comic strips. He also had a bulletin board with a good amount of pictures dedicated to himself and Kaneki.

"Cute," she remarked dryly, pointing to the collage.

Kaneki glanced at it. The dark look that crossed his face was undeniably a mix of sorrow and nostalgia— as though he was mourning his lost childhood, or something.

She couldn't blame him for that, she supposed.

"So…" Kaneki sat down on Hide's bed, and looked up at her expectantly. "What do you want to talk about?"

_Why do you care about me so much?_

It was a question she wanted to ask— needed to ask— but she knew she wouldn't get a straight answer for. People didn't just explain why they cared about things. They just cared. And it made her feel guilty, because she didn't care for him nearly as much.

"How's Ayato?" she asked instead.

He choked a bit on a laugh, and he pointed to his nose, which was still rather red rimmed from dried blood. "Great," he said flatly. "Fantastic. I'm glad he's found his fighting spirit again."

"Well, yes," Touka said sharply. "Yes, I'm happy he beat the shit out of you. At least he _did_ something."

Kaneki flinched, looking entirely too apologetic, and before he could stammer out an apology she sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said, biting hard on her words and finding them difficult to swallow. "I'm— I'm taking out my frustration on you. You don't deserve that."

Kaneki didn't respond. He merely blinked up at her, bewildered.

 _I'm an idiot_ , she thought. _I'm so fucking dumb._

"Can you, like…" She shuffled her feet. " _Speak_?"

"Thank you," he said.

"That's not what I wanted to hear, you know."

"I know." He smiled, and looked down at his lap. "Yeah… I know. But still. Thank you for apologizing— for caring enough to apologize, I guess."

"Do you think I'm heartless, or something?"

"No." He closed his eyes contentedly. "I just know that saying you're sorry is not always the easiest thing to do."

"No," she agreed, "but you've been unbelievably kind. You probably saved me yesterday, in all honesty. So if I owe you anything, it's an apology."

"You don't owe me anything, Touka."

He looked her in the eye, and she'd never seen such a somber, earnest look in her entire life.

She studied him closely as she tried to decide how to respond. As she opened her mouth, she found herself jumping, a sudden weight falling onto her shoulders.

Hide had bolted into the room and thrown his arm around her shoulders. "Who's up for some coffee?"

"Did _you_ make it?" Kaneki asked, sounding a little less than thrilled.

"Bro, please!" Hide whined. "I've gotten so much better— you have to try it."

"Okay," Touka said.

"Ah, Touka, fair warning," Kaneki sighed, "Hide's coffee is just about the worst I've ever tasted."

Touka scoffed. "We'll see," she said.

In the kitchen she found that the coffee wasn't actually that bad— she did make a great show of gagging on it though, a passable theatric in comparison to Kaneki's melodramatic choking.

* * *

Days passed drearily— weeks, even— and the whole world seemed to be inching forward sluggishly. After such an action packed month, the break from terror _should_ have been welcome. But in all honesty, Shirazu was fucking bored.

"Y'all," he remarked, adjusting his regalia as he examined Mutsuki's new medal closely, "climbing ranks like some kinda beasts…"

"It is strange," Mutsuki admitted, his green hair neatly combed back from his face. He had dyed it that odd mossy color around the first day of the new year, when Touka had been bouncing between their apartment and Hide's for a week. It suited him. "Technically neither of us really exterminated any ghouls."

Shirazu thought about Kaneki as he had been the night of the Aogiri raid— tearing through ghouls like they were weeds, taking no time, having no pity. Blood congealing in his hair, drying on his skin.

Shirazu swallowed hard.

"You killed Jason, though."

Mutsuki shot him a wan smile. His skin was still a bit sallow, but in the month or so that he'd been home, he'd regained some of the color he'd lost to Jason.

"I let Suzuya have that one," he admitted. "I don't really want that quinque. They do. It's only fair."

"I don't see a damn thing fair about that."

"And I don't see why I got promoted," Mutsuki admitted. He thumbed his medal uncertainly. "I didn't do anything."

"Whatever, _Rank 2_." Shirazu grinned and clapped his friend cheerily on the back. "Ya can act all humble, but I ain't gonna forget. Ya saved me, y'know."

"Shirazu…" Mutsuki eyed him uncertainly, a small frown pulling at his lips. "It's not really a big deal, I just—"

"I ain't fighting about this with ya again, man," Shirazu said, shoving him playfully. Mutsuki stumbled lightly, and let out a small laugh.

"You should have gotten promoted," he admitted, delivering Shirazu a penetrating look— the look of a man who had too many regrets.

"I didn't really kill any ghouls," he admitted. "Though, I mean, I did almost kill you. Maybe that should count for something!"

"Ha ha," Mutsuki remarked, his single visible eye rolling. "You do make a formidable foe, I'll give you that."

"Formidable!" Shirazu gasped, hand flying over his heart. "You mean it?"

Mutsuki smiled at him sheepishly, and he shook his head. His medal, Shirazu knew, was some kind of show of respect for the sacrifice he'd made on duty. A few other investigators had been given it, but many of them had lost limbs or were horribly disfigured. Mutsuki looked undeniably whole in comparison.

The award ceremony had been so, so boring. Shirazu was really glad it was over. His status in the CCG was unchanged, but he still had to be here as kind of like an official induction into the ranks. He didn't mind that he hadn't been promoted, since he'd barely been an investigator for more than a month, so he bore no hard feelings toward Kaneki and Mutsuki. Kaneki had been promoted to Rank 2 as well, but right now he was nowhere to be seen.

"Mutsuki!" A childlike voice peeled across the room, and Mutsuki turned, a little astonished as Suzuya Juuzou came bounding toward him. "Mu-tsu-ki!"

"Ah," Mutsuki breathed, catching the investigator as they fell again him. Hard. "Hello, Suzuya."

Shirazu didn't talk to Suzuya much, and for the most part they ignored him entirely, but for some reason they'd been around a lot more over the past month. Not just around headquarters, but around the apartment too. Mutsuki never really explained it, and Shirazu had never really asked, but it seemed like an odd friendship. After all, Mutsuki was a pretty gentle soul, and Suzuya was— well, Suzuya.

"Do you have any sweets?" Suzuya was already rummaging through Mutsuki's pockets.

"Unfortunately," Mutsuki said in a small, sad tone, "I forgot to smuggle some in for you. Kaneki might have some, though."

Suzuya peeled themselves from Mutsuki, looking a tad disappointed, but otherwise upbeat. "Well, that's okay!" they gasped. "Shinohara said there should be desserts soon. Oh, not that you can eat any of 'em. That really sucks."

Shirazu winced, as he always did when Suzuya was so decidedly blunt about Mutsuki's condition. Mutsuki didn't seem to mind, though. Suzuya was blunt about everything, so Mutsuki seemed to welcome their rudeness. Find it endearing, even.

"It does suck," he admitted. "But it could be worse. I could be dead."

"Yeah, that'd ruin your day, huh?"

The strange thing about Suzuya was that sometimes they made offhand remarks that _seemed_ to be made of sarcasm but were really entirely earnest.

"Ah…" Mutsuki's eyes landed on someone in the crowd of investigators. He looked a little confused as he patted Suzuya on the shoulder. "I'll see you later, okay? It looks like I've been summoned."

"Mhm," Suzuya hummed, attention also caught elsewhere. When Shirazu followed their gaze, he saw that a dessert table had been laid out. "See ya, Tooru."

Mutsuki looked down at them, a little shocked that his first name had been used, but he smiled nonetheless.

After Suzuya disappeared, Mutsuki met Shirazu's eye, and he shrugged.

"If I get reassigned," he said, starting towards a slight investigator that Shirazu recognized as Ui Koori, "pray for me."

"I'm already prayin'."

And then Shirazu was alone.

He stood awkwardly, feeling entirely too out of place without calm, collected Mutsuki beside him. Mutsuki, who had gone through the motions of this glorified sports award banquet like a veteran, who had whispered to Shirazu the ranks of investigators who'd come up to shake his hand, who had smiled earnestly while readjusting his chain and fixing his collar.

His eyes flickered rapidly from one side of the room to the other. He hardly recognized a single person here. Not only that, but it was difficult to curb his dialect in a place brimming with Tokyo elite. Every time he had spoken to someone who wasn't Mutsuki, he spoke unbearably slow, his voice high and pitchy. He just didn't want to seem too much like a scruffy little street rat that had been soaked in oils and expected to dance on his hind legs.

As he wandered around, he was caught abruptly by the shoulder. Shirazu squeaked involuntarily.

"At ease, Rank 3."

Shirazu looked up, and he saw Urie Kuki's father peering down at him.

"S-Special Class Urie," he choked out, glancing frantically around him for a familiar face. Looking at the man's face reminded him. "Long time no see."

"Yes," Urie said, watching him dully. "You seem jumpy. Is it something I've done?"

_You mean outright forbid me from seeing your son, like, ever?_

Shirazu smiled tightly. "Just out of my depth," Shirazu said cautiously, taking care not to slur his words, "sir."

"Ah." Urie's dark, clever eyes raked the expanse of the room. "Yes, I imagine this is all quite the shock for you. After all, you're very young, and you've never been exposed to such an atmosphere before now. I wonder if it doesn't seem all so very dull to you."

"So very dull," Shirazu repeated softly, noting the formal way the man spoke. "No, I… I think it's very nice, I just…"

"You're a teenager." Urie smiled at him simply. "I understand. Don't forget, I do have a son your age."

Shirazu smiled back, praying it didn't look as guilty as it felt.

 _Say something_ , he thought fiercely, sweat prickling his palms as he shrunk under the weight of Urie's stare. _He's gonna suspect somethin' is up, y'know, if ya don't spit somethin' out!_

"How _is_ your son?" he asked suddenly, looking at Urie with large eyes.

Urie's eyes narrowed right back. "He's perfectly fine," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"We were classmates," Shirazu said innocently, letting a sheepish smile fall onto his lips. "And, uh… ya— you know. I haven't seen him in a while. I'm glad to hear it, though."

Urie studied him, but whatever he was scrutinizing seemed to sate him. He nodded slowly. "He's been doing very well," he said. He considered Shirazu for a moment, his brow furrowing. "I'll tell him you asked."

Shirazu bit his tongue before he could blurt a disbelieving " _Really_?"

"Thank you," he said thickly, unable to think of anything better to say.

The phone in the pocket of his pristine white trousers buzzed. Shirazu retrieved it quickly, bowing his head toward Urie respectfully. "Excuse me," he said.

He tried to make his exit seem dignified, but he was honestly too relieved to have an excuse to bolt. He opened the text message, scanning it over once, and then he scanned the room. He saw that Kaneki had come to Mutsuki's aid while Shirazu had been stuck with the older Urie.

"One for the road," he chirped, sliding breezily between Mutsuki and Ui, extending his arm and taking a quick snapshot of him, Mutsuki, and Kaneki. Both men looked utterly bewildered as Shirazu winked at the camera, throwing a careless peace sign.

"Shirazu—!" Mutsuki gasped, looking honestly flustered.

"That's cute," Shirazu said, peering the photo and smiling. "I'm gonna scrapbook it. Baby's first promotion."

" _Shirazu_!"

"Okay, but seriously, I gotta bounce," he said, smiling apologetically at the two of them. Kaneki frowned, and Mutsuki echoed his expression, but neither of them asked why. "Love ya, see ya in the morning, probably."

"Have fun?" Kaneki offered weakly. "Be safe?"

"Always!" Shirazu winked. He turned his attention to Ui, and he nodded respectfully his way. "Associate Special Class."

"Rank 3." Ui did not look particularly disturbed by Shirazu's appearance. He didn't look very concerned at all, actually.

Truth be told, Shirazu was more than happy to get out of the stuffy award ceremony. He stepped out into the bleak February night, and he smiled. He checked his phone, the blinding glow of it lighting his path until he reached a subway.

Nobody seemed to be able to contain their stares at his ornate uniform. He tried his best to ignore it, his face warm and his eyes cast down at his phone. It was an old phone, cheap and sort of worn out with a busted screen and slow data. But it did its job okay.

Shirazu stepped off the train and made his way up the stairs, hit by an onslaught of chilly air. He glanced both ways before crossing, hurrying down the street and ducking into an alley. This alley intersected with another alley, giving the street a perfect view of a cement wall that had been painted over a few times by the city as a counter approach to vandals.

It didn't exactly work.

But at least it meant he could skip a step.

"Did you get all dressed up just for me?"

Shirazu snorted. On the ground behind him, Urie was camped out on a towel with a small portable heater, a thermos, and a hefty flashlight that was probably a good fifty to a hundred watts. He was wearing a durable pair of jeans and a beaten up old jacket. When he stood, he pulled a neckerchief up from his throat and over his nose.

"Of course." Shirazu rolled his eyes, and he popped the top buttons of his uniform. "Only for you, man."

He undid his shirt, startled to find himself sort of entombed in the white jacket. There was a golden chain strangling him, and Shirazu did not know what to do with it because Mutsuki had fastened it to him.

"You," Urie remarked, "are an imbecile."

Finally Shirazu managed to free himself, shrugging off the jacket and tossing it at Urie. He caught it, and then threw it fiercely onto the towel on the ground.

"You don't ever plan ahead," Urie sighed, "do you?"

When Shirazu didn't answer, Urie snatched up his backpack and tore an extra coat from its depths. Shirazu found himself beaming, half frozen and delightfully surprised by Urie's foresight.

"Kuki!" he cried. "You are the _man_!"

"Shut up." Urie simply held the coat out as far away from him as possible. Shirazu took it gratefully, pulling it on over his thin cotton undershirt.

"I saw your dad," he said conversationally as he took the spare kerchief Urie offered out to him.

"Oh?" Urie was now examining the far expanse of the pale wall before them, his dark eyes flickering from one end to the other. "And how was that?"

"Kinda scary."

Urie scoffed. He plucked up a can that had been lying in wait since Shirazu had arrived, and he rolled his eyes. "He's only scary to you because you are absolutely useless," he remarked.

Shirazu didn't refute that. He was used to Urie's consistent teasing, though sometimes he couldn't tell if his friend was being actually mean spirited or not.

Instead, Shirazu picked up a can of spray paint and tapped it gingerly against Urie's.

"Let's do this," he said, his smile unrepentant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> intono, intonare, intonui, intonitus.  
> to thunder forth; to thunder.


	39. perendie

The heavy overcast created night-like atmosphere across the overlapping backstreets. Shadows crept from one building to another, stretching far and wide, swallowing up the sparse sunlight and creating an eerie urban haunt. Brick walls drew on and on forever, asphalt glittered in the humid air like black streams, chainlink fences rose like walls of thorns blocking off necessary trails. They were running through a manmade forest.

They slipped through the twisting roads like they were descending into age old catacombs.

In the distance, the thunder gave a dissatisfied rumble. The looming steel clouds swirled uneasily above his head as he kicked off his city bike and lept onto a fence, the momentum giving him a head start, his fingers darting up and lurching him over the top.

His boots clapped against the glistening asphalt. Beads of rain darkened his shoulders.

"Son of a bitch," he swore, his eyes raking the unfamiliar alleyway. It was narrow, maybe two and a half of him in width, and inexplicably tall. That made his surroundings painfully dark, with the only light being from the far off heavens and the dim flicker of daylight at the end of the long stretch.

The dude he'd been chasing— he wasn't a very smart or fast or strong ghoul— was a longtime patron of the Ghoul Restaurant. Kaneki had gotten the tip earlier in the week, and as far as their investigation had been going in search of the Yasuhisa twins… Well, they couldn't get clearance to search the old Yasuhisa estate without proving that their disappearance had something to do with ghouls.

Shirazu had actually been on his lunch break when he'd spotted the ghoul. Middle aged, sort of frumpy looking, a tired business man's face with shifty eyes drilled deeply into his skull. Shirazu hadn't been wearing his white coat, so the man hadn't suspected anything strange until Shirazu had gotten onto his bike and started tailing him.

Now it was a goddamn chase.

Which _would_ have been really exhilarating if it weren't for the fact that Shirazu didn't have his quinque.

The rain was obscuring his vision further, leaving him in a tough predicament. He couldn't rely on his ears, not with the city sounds and the patter of rain and the distant crash of thunder. He'd give himself a nasty headache if he tried to tune in like that. Scents— everything smelled wet and rotten. Even the grout of the bricks stank of mildew.

His heart thudded heavily against his ribs. He thought that he could do this— he thought that if he could do anything, it was _this_. Nobody could stop him.

A whistle breezed overhead, and Shirazu kicked off the fence, stumbling blindly into the alley. The ghoul had dropped from above, landing in a quick roll. His kagune was rinkaku, a wild swell of vines twisting around his portly frame.

"Shit," Shirazu said as the kagune bathed him and the alleyway in an ominous red glow.

"You know," the ghoul said, his voice small and shaky, "I don't usually get too defensive around my kind, but something smells _off_ about you."

Shirazu swallowed hard, taking a careful step back from the defensive ghoul. According to the file, his name was Shiotani Hachiro, and he was forty three years old. He worked as a sales representative at a local magazine, and went to the ghoul restaurant on his weekends to blow off steam.

Kaneki had assembled this file.

Shiotani wasn't a very suspicious looking man. He was just an average dude working a white collar job. Paying his bills. Probably raising his kids, though Shirazu knew Kaneki would never put that in the file. Shirazu felt a twinge of guilt.

"Also," Shiotani said, his kakugan flashing dangerously in the darkness, "I don't appreciate people chasing me."

"Uh," Shirazu said weakly, "sorry?"

Shiotani responded by shooting forward, kagune lurching with an unexpected flash of speed. Shirazu yelped, dodging briskly and finding himself moving with an unmistakable panic. The kagune didn't look particularly sturdy or strong, but what it lacked in strength it made up with versatility and speed. Shirazu was pretty speedy himself, being an Ukaku type and all, but even he was hard pressed to find an opening as he danced between the flurry of vines.

The raindrops had begun to fall heavily, plopping onto his head and plastering his hair to his cheeks. He squinted through the rain and the shadows and the excess hair, slamming against the wall more than once in an attempt to save his own life.

His kagune tore out of his shoulder sharply, shielding him at the last second as he stumbled and fell to one knee. One of the vines had been so close to slicing through his jugular, but the trusty ukaku slipped up and around his shoulder, colliding with the rinkaku kagune and causing the air to shudder. He felt the vibrations in his soul, his whole body humming in response.

"Who are you?" Shiotani snapped. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk!" Shirazu cried, the pressure of the man's kagune seeping into his nerves and causing his shoulder to ache terribly. He braced himself against the wall, eyes following the excess vines as they slithered and snaked around Shiotani's legs. "I didn't mean to scare ya, I just thought that ya might be able to help me!"

"Help you, huh?" Shiotani's eyes narrowed. "No thanks, kid. You're all kinds of trouble, I can tell. I'd be better off just leaving you for the doves."

"No," Shirazu uttered, lurching forward, "please, listen—!"

A vine shot out as Shirazu took another step. He saw it, and realized with a heavy heart that it was too late for him to dodge. It had ducked low and shot up. He tried to step back, but another vine was caught around his leg. It punctured his thigh, a sudden burst of pain shaking through him, reminding him how human he really was.

He thought of Haru, and he felt sick.

 _I didn't want to hurt ya,_ he thought desperately, shocked and dismayed at the thought that he might die because he hadn't initially gone in for a fight. _I didn't… I…_

He gasped as a cloaked figure fell from above, darting between him and Shiotani and slicing through the vine with vicious precision. In the darkness and through the screen of rain, the figure was a swift and deliberate shadow. He dodged the onslaught of vines driven by Shiotani, and got up close within seconds.

"No—!" Shirazu cried as Shiotani Hachiro was kicked back against the chainlink fence, and his throat was slit with a clean swipe of a curved dagger.

His cries fell on deaf ears. The vine around his leg slackened, and without the brace he found it too painful to stand upright. He fell to his knees, a small, pained gasp falling from his mouth.

The figure whirled around at the sound and threw his hood back.

"Shirazu," Mutsuki breathed, dropping to his knees beside him. Shirazu couldn't meet his eye, trying to rationalize his own failure here while simultaneously burying his shock at Mutsuki's actions.

"Why'd ya kill him?" Shirazu muttered. He felt Mutsuki's hands on his leg, working nimbly to tear the rip in his jeans open further.

"He hurt you," Mutsuki said simply.

Shirazu finally raised his eyes to Mutsuki's face. His expression was firm— a resolute face, the sort of uncompromising and unrepentant face of a skilled politician. Only his visible eye betrayed his worry, swampy and swiftly darting from Shirazu's thigh to his toes.

"I'm okay," Shirazu said faintly. "It's gonna heal soon, so… I mean, it was kinda my fault. For being so slow to fight, I mean. Ya knew better, I guess."

Mutsuki didn't reply. He merely lowered his eyes mutely, his cloaked shoulders hunching. He dug through his pockets and retrieved a roll of bandages.

Shirazu couldn't help but smirk. "Always prepared," he quipped.

"You're lucky you didn't lose your leg."

"I don't think luck has anythin' to do with it."

Mutsuki frowned, shrinking into his cloak and looking somehow even smaller than he already was. "I was worried," he said, lifting Shirazu's leg gingerly as he applied pressure to the wound with gauze. Shirazu winced, exhaling sharply through his teeth, and letting his head loll against the brick wall. " _Rightfully_ worried, I think. Shirazu, you didn't even have your quinque. You know as well as I do that you can't just rely on your kagune."

"Yeah, yeah," Shirazu said, closing his eyes and listening the sound of bandages ripping. As brutal as Mutsuki could be sometimes, his unparalleled penchant for kindness was what truly amazed Shirazu. It was no real shock when people turned out to be frightening. Not in this world.

The true test of nature was continuing to live in spite of life's brutalities, and still have the capacity to love.

Shirazu thought that Mutsuki was amazing.

"I guess I should call this in," Mutsuki said at last after tying off Shirazu's bandage. Shirazu eyed his bandaged leg disdainfully, finding it difficult to accept how helpless he'd just been. All because he'd been pulling the pacifist card.

"Amon and Kaneki won't be happy ya killed their lead."

Mutsuki frowned, and he peered through his faded green hair at Shirazu's face. There was an intent look about him, like he wondered if Shirazu was being serious.

"Amon might chew me out a bit," Mutsuki reasoned calmly, "but Kaneki will just be glad that you're alive."

"Ya don't _know_ that he would've killed me."

Mutsuki picked up his knives and sheathed them in a hidden holster behind his back.

"Better safe than sorry," he said gravely, rising to his feet and offering Shirazu both his hands. Shirazu stuffed his discomfort down, and stuffed it down _deep._ He would not comment on Mutsuki's hypocrisy— the condemnation of the CCG for murdering ghouls without giving them a fair chance while doing the same thing under a different pretense. Shirazu knew it was wrong. He knew Mutsuki had saved him, and he knew it was wrong anyway. However, there was no easy way to prove it was the wrong move. There was nothing wrong with saving Shirazu, and maybe Shirazu wouldn't have needed saving if he had a little more bite to him.

He was scared that maybe there was no way to be a truly good person in this world. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he thought he could be a friend to ghouls and a friend to humanity, it seemed that the ugliness of both sides seemed to shine its brightest.

"Well," Shirazu said, shooting Mutsuki a sheepish smile as his friend steadied him, "thanks a bunch, dude."

"You don't have to thank me for saving you."

Shirazu's smile dimmed slightly when Mutsuki turned his face away to glance at the body. _Ya saved me, ya killed a guy to save me, and that shouldn't be an easy thing to do, so let me thank ya… let me be grateful, because I am. I am. I really am._

As Mutsuki called in a retrieval team, Shirazu stared at his bike forlornly. It was just a city bike, nothing special, and in all honesty he was shocked it hadn't been wrecked yet. The weather was usually too nice to take the subway, in his humble opinion, so he opted to bike to work and wherever. It was nice.

"Will the retrieval team get my bike for me?" he asked.

Mutsuki smiled at him, and he asked. He then gave Shirazu a thumbs up.

The retrieval team took them back to headquarters, and all the while Mutsuki held onto Shirazu's shoulder. In defiance of the CCG, they had both begun to bend the dress code quite a bit. Shirazu was wearing jeans to work— baggy, paint splattered jeans, and an unnaturally colored button up shirt that he'd bought at a pawn shop that had likely seen a great war or two. Mutsuki was slightly more by the book with his black dress pants, but his boots were not standard CCG attire, nor was his loose fitting white cotton shirt that looked like it was something out of a period piece. The cloak he wore was white, and it went down to about half of his forearms. Neither of them looked like they were in the occupation they were in.

"Aren't ya hot in that?" Shirazu had remarked once, gesturing to the cloak.

Mutsuki merely shook his head. Shirazu would call him dramatic, but they lived with Kaneki Ken.

In the end, they shuffled into the CCG together. And, in the end, Kaneki saw them and came bounding down the steps, Amon trailing after him with equal vigor.

"Christ," Amon swore loudly when Mutsuki helped Shirazu to a bench. Some nearby investigators were glancing at him worriedly.

"Shirazu," Kaneki gasped, dropping to a crouch beside him, examining the wound quickly. "What the hell happened? Mutsuki, I thought you two had gone a separate route today!"

"We did." Mutsuki did not balk under the pointed stares of both Amon and Kaneki. He merely stood, folding his arms across his chest. "I made the decision to disobey orders and follow Shirazu."

"What made you do that?" said an unfamiliar feminine voice.

Shirazu looked up past Kaneki's face, and saw that there was a very, _very_ pretty young woman standing a yard or so away from them. He did not recognize her, but she looked very official and a little intimidating. Which made Shirazu's chest seize. She was definitely the sort of woman he'd let boss him around any day, all day, forever. Probably.

Mutsuki looked at the woman, his brow furrowing a bit in clear bemusement, but he replied with a rapt attentiveness anyway.

"Shirazu and I have been working together for about six months," he said. "In that time, I've gotten to know his investigating style. He's quick to action but slow to reason, and since I had no lead to speak of, I thought I'd make sure he was okay."

"Shouldn't you put more faith in your fellow investigator?" the woman pressed.

"Hey," Shirazu cut in sharply. "If Tooru hadn't come when he did, then I'd have more trouble than a little cut."

"That is quite enough," Amon said. Shirazu had resigned himself to believing that the man had been speaking to him, but his eyes were on the woman. "These investigators have proven that they are more than capable of doing their jobs right _and_ take care of their teammates. I'd appreciate if you didn't spook them."

"Spook them," the woman repeated softly, her clever eyes flickering between their faces. A coy smile appeared on her lips as she tilted her chin. "Oh, I see. These are those Quinx I heard you're so found of, First Class Amon."

Amon looked at her sharply while Kaneki rose to his feet. He gestured to the woman stiffly.

"I'd like you guys to meet Rank 2 Investigator Mado Akira. She'll be working with us from time to time, since she is Amon's subordinate as well."

"Subordinate?" Shirazu asked at the same time that Mutsuki blurted, "Mado?"

Akira's eyes slid sharply to his face. Kaneki also looked at Mutsuki, his eyes bearing a clear warning.

"Yes," she said. "Did you know my father, Mado Kureo?"

Mutsuki simply shook his head. He shook it hard. "No," he said, lowering his eyes. "I— I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Mado."

"Akira is just fine. We're going to be partners of sorts, after all." Her expression softened a bit as she watched him. "You didn't know my father, did you? No, you're too young."

"I… did meet him. Once." Mutsuki looked at her, and his cheeks were noticeably darker as he continued to watch her. "He and Amon were the ones who, um, came to my Junior Academy. When I qualified to be a Quinx. It was all a really sudden process, and I had no idea what was really happening, but…"

"Would you be here," Mado said, "if not for him?"

Mutsuki seemed to give it some thought before shaking his head. "I don't know, really," he admitted. "But it's possible."

"No fair," Shirazu huffed, stretching out his injured leg. "Nobody cool came to _my_ school. Just a bunch of mad scientists lookin' folks who poked us dry and made us fill out these forms. Boring."

"I had to do that too, Shirazu."

"What branch were you?" Akira asked curiously.

"Uh, first?"

"Thought so." She looked rather proud of herself for deducing this information. "Apparently the First Junior Academy was brimming with Q potential."

"Huh?" Shirazu was taken aback. "There ain't any other ones though. Just me and Tooru."

"How did you get that information," Kaneki said, "might I ask?"

"I worked under Arima for a bit," she explained. Shirazu didn't miss the way Kaneki stiffened, and neither did Mutsuki. They shared a look. It was no secret between the two of them that Kaneki had his issues with Arima Kishou. They'd seen him react very poorly to the man's name, not to mention being in the same room as him for longer than a solid minute.

"What does Arima have to do with us?"

"Well, I don't exactly know the details," Akira said, blinking at them. "Arima isn't exactly a chatty man, you know? But Ui told me that he and Arima scoped out the extent of the Quinx program. Because I wanted to know."

Shirazu thought about Urie, and he smiled wanly. "Well," he said, "no one else wanted to join. It's just us here."

"Yes," she said, smiling back at him politely. "And you three are definitely an interesting bunch. I look forward to working with you."

Shirazu nodded vigorously. "And we're excited to work with you!" he chirped. Mutsuki covered his mouth and looked away.

Amon eyed them. "We'll discuss this more later," he said, like a strict father forewarning a good telling off.

As he walked away with Akira, they all let out a breath at once.

"Is she really going to work with us?" Mutsuki asked uneasily.

"Not that I'm complainin'!" Shirazu waved his hands fervently. "She's like, like a goddess or somethin', right? But also, like… we've never really been team players much."

"Yeah," Mutsuki said. "We're pretty much self-sufficient. Amon doesn't bother us, he just supervises us under technicality. If anything, Kaneki, _you're_ the leader of the Quinx Squad, not Amon."

"Flattering," Kaneki muttered. His eyes were cast toward the place where Amon and Akira had disappeared. "However, we all know that I have no control of this. Hell, I don't think Amon even realized he was getting a new subordinate until today. And the fact that she's Mado's daughter…"

"It could spell trouble," Mutsuki said with a frown. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. We just got everything to simmer down after Touka— the rumors of a ghoul getting in here have basically gone away, but…"

"But if she finds out," Kaneki sighed, "we're in trouble."

"Uh…" Shirazu raised his hand shyly. "Kanekun, why would we be in trouble?"

"Touka is wrapped up in the Rabbit investigation." Kaneki grimaced, and he patted Shirazu's head absently. "Don't worry too much about it. We'll just have to do our best to avoid catastrophe. Speaking of, I assume our lead is gone?"

Shirazu couldn't help how deeply those words sunk into his brain. _Gone,_ it echoed, _gone, gone_.

"Yes," Mutsuki said somberly. "He attacked Shirazu, so I…"

"Don't feel too bad about it," Kaneki told Mutsuki gently. Shirazu looked up, and so for the first time what looked like _regret_ in Mutsuki's eye. "If it was between Shirazu and Shiotani, I'm glad you chose the way you did. I've had enough grief for a lifetime, thanks."

Mutsuki offered a smile, but it looked a little hollow.

"Why don't we go home," Kaneki said, taking hold of Shirazu's arm and helping him to his feet. "I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

"Yeah…" Shirazu frowned. They made their way out steadily into the street, and Shirazu noted that the rain had stopped.

"By the way," Kaneki said as they walked, Mutsuki trailing quietly behind them, "the Painter was brought up at the meeting today."

"What?" Shirazu choked, a blush rising high on his cheeks. "But… but that's just speculation, I mean… ya know, they don't really know who's been doing the art…"

"Well, right now they suspect it's a ghoul," Kaneki said. His arm snaked around Shirazu's shoulder, and he squeezed hard. "Be careful, Shirazu. If you're caught, they'll do worse than strip you of your rank."

They were all quiet. Mutsuki shadowed them silently, his eye focused worriedly on Shirazu's face. Shirazu took a deep breath.

"Right now they think it's one man doing it," he said. "Not only that, but they think it's a ghoul. I think we're safe for right now."

"That doesn't mean they won't catch you in the act now that they're looking for you."

"Well," Shirazu huffed, "we'll just have to be _extra_ careful, won't we?"

Kaneki studied him closely. Then he smiled.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "since they think you're ghouls anyway… why not try out a disguise?"

* * *

"Shit," he said bluntly, casting a sullen look at broken coffee cup on the floor.

Coffee pooled beneath the shards of glass, spreading in an easy puddle across the hard wood. He bowed his head, listening to the escalated whispers that he was certain pertained to his utter incompetence. His face burned.

 _You can't do anything right_ , that insistent voice inside his head laughed. _You can't even do this simple thing. Humans can do this, but you? You're so pathetic._

"I've got it!"

Speaking of humans.

Ayato watched mutely as Nagachika Hideyoshi came bounding over the counter with a rag in hand. He dropped into a crouch before Ayato, and maneuvered the glass away from the spill.

Guiltily, Ayato knelt down and began to gather the glass into his apron.

"Don't worry about it," Hide told him, as though he'd expressed his misgivings. "Everyone has their rough days."

Ayato dropped the last of the glass into his apron, and he said coldly, "Try a rough six months."

"That too."

Ayato bit his tongue and stood up, leaving Hide on the floor to clean up his mess. He went to the kitchen to deposit the broken glass into the garbage, and then collapsed heavily against the sink. His fingers were white against the stainless steel basin, and he sunk, his shoulders hunching heavily as his head bowed itself down deeply.

It was beyond reason to want something to go right for once.

The door opened, and Ayato stiffened. Even footfalls drummed in his head. He closed his eyes and let his hair shield his face.

"Ayato."

He didn't want to hear it all again.

The silence that followed was rich and smothering, like the air had been coated in molasses. He was a slave to his own wretched thoughts and own detestable feelings and of course that hurt.

It hurt.

But he was too stubborn to say so.

"It's quite alright, you know."

"No it's not."

His fingers closed tighter around the rim of the sink. The metal began to bend beneath his grip.

Yoshimura laid a hand on his bicep, and Ayato whacked it away, whirling to face him violently.

"I don't need your pity, old man!" he spat.

"I'm not pitying you," Yoshimura said easily. "I'm merely attempting to prevent you from doing something self-destructive."

 _Same thing_ , he thought. He took a deep breath and dragged a hand down his face.

The worst part about all of this was that he really was just trying his best.

"At this rate," he said quietly, "you won't have a cup left to serve anyone."

Yoshimura smiled at him, and he shook his head. "I'm sure we'll make do," he said. "Perhaps we'll make a transfer over to paper cups to avoid further accidents."

"Oh," Ayato said, rolling his eyes, "you're funny."

"I think so."

Ayato leaned heavily against the sink, looking down at his feet miserably. "I don't think I'm really good at this," he admitted.

"Your coffee is very good, Ayato."

"Yeah, okay, anyone's coffee is good compared to Shitty Nagachika's."

Yoshimura's smile widened. "I'm not comparing you just to Hide," he said. "I think you have quite the talent for it. You're as good as Touka was, and Touka had been working at it for years."

Ayato couldn't help the flush of validation that swept through him, this man's approval warming him up inside and batting away all the unseemly thoughts. "That doesn't take much," he said stiffly, trying to pass off the compliment as no big deal.

"I'm serious, Ayato." Yoshimura did not step forward, but he did offer his hands palms up. "Accidents are a part of the job. A job you are naturally gifted at. Don't let the past interfere with what your future may hold."

"You say that like anyone would want to work in a coffee shop their whole life," Ayato muttered, arms crossed tightly around his chest.

If Yoshimura was bothered by his intentional jab at his personhood, he did not show it.

"You are young," Yoshimura said in a sort of kind but jaunty voice, "and you have a long and precious life ahead of you. It doesn't really do anyone any good to make life decisions while they are too young and too blind to see the consequences."

Ayato frowned, and he opened his mouth to ask if Yoshimura was speaking from past experience. He quickly snapped his mouth shut and looked away, afraid that Yoshimura would think he cared. Which he did. But he didn't want Yoshimura to know that.

"It's your life," Yoshimura continued kindly, "and you know I'd never keep you trapped here. If you want to go, I can't stop you."

Ayato swallowed thickly. He could see it, stripping off the apron and running out into the street. Fleeing into the ghoul underground and never looking back. He saw it, but seeing it was not the same as doing it. He could not find it in himself to move his legs, nor did he have any desire to.

"I'll stay," he muttered. Yoshimura seemed to perk up, his wizened gaze widening a bit. "If only until Touka comes back."

"Ah." Yoshimura smiled. "You're afraid that if you leave, she might have trouble finding you."

"She'll come back," Ayato said firmly. "I know her. It'd be easier for me to wait for her to return to Anteiku than to try and look for her myself."

"Funny," Yoshimura remarked. "That's exactly how she felt when you left."

That _stung_. It hit his heart like an arrowhead, bursting through muscle and clipping bone and burrowing itself deep into the meat of an artery. He took a sharp breath like the arrow had pierced through his back. Even the phantom pain of the scars on his shoulders cramped up.

Ayato took a breath, and he turned his face away sharply. "Whatever," he spat.

 _Why_ , he thought, _why was I so stupid?_

"Why don't you make us some coffee?" Yoshimura suggested, leaning forward and resting a light, bony hand on his shoulder. "It's a beautiful day, and I'd love to sit outside and enjoy it."

"Uh," Ayato said, frowning. "Okay?"

Ayato got the coffee brewing, avoiding Hide's gaze as usual. He adjusted the brewer, finding the whole process to be rather simple, his fingers flying to the right buttons and shifting the correct levers. He brewed two cups of coffee and shouldered past Hide, making his way outside to the tables set up on the sidewalk.

"Thank you," the old man said, pulling the cup closer as Ayato sat down. He blew on the coffee tentatively before taking a sip. His eyes lit up. "Marvelous."

"Uh…" Ayato looked down into his mug, and he frowned. He didn't really get it. His coffee didn't really taste any different than anyone else's to him. Sure he tasted the difference between the beans used, but…

"Who taught you to make coffee?" Yoshimura asked curiously.

"Um. I'm not really sure…" Ayato thumbed his cup thoughtfully. "I guess… Touka must have."

"Well, it shows." Yoshimura smiled at him gently. And then he lowered his eyes. "You think I'm just flattering you to make you feel better."

"Literally why else would you bring me out here?"

"Well," Yoshimura sighed, taking another sip, "you don't leave the shop often. I thought it'd be good for you to get some fresh air."

Ayato scowled, and Yoshimura laughed a quiet little chuckle.

Yoshimura said softly, "I wish you could see that there is so much more to you than a fight."

"Ugh." Ayato shrunk into his chair and glared out into the street. "This again."

Above them, the blue awning protected them from the sun's harsh rays. It didn't help the humidity though. It had rained, and the sidewalk and asphalt were still faintly wet, while the air was still heavy and acidic. Ayato could reach out and pry condensation from the very breath he took if he wanted to.

"You're all so much alike," Yoshimura murmured.

"Come again?"

His old eyes raised to Ayato, watching him curiously. He was such a calm, genial old man. Unsuspecting and merciful. He was the kind of person Ayato hated.

But lately he had a whole lot of trouble projecting his hatred outward. It wasn't that he was lacking in it, just that he couldn't seem to let it go. So it sank inside him. It festered and grew.

"You and Touka," Yoshimura admitted, "have too much in common. You are both angry at the world— albeit for different reasons. And you both want to fight everything and everyone and fend for yourself. But you must know, Ayato, that that sort of life is a lonely one."

His jaw clenched as he stared Yoshimura down. "I know that," he said quietly.

"Then forgive me for prying," the man sighed, "but I worry about you. I always have."

"Thanks for the cushy feelings, gramps," Ayato said flatly, "but I don't want your worry or your pity."

"Yes," Yoshimura laughed, "I know."

Ayato flushed, and he took a great gulp of his coffee. He didn't need to take this shit. He could go back inside or— or just leave. Nothing was stopping him.

Touka's face flashed inside his head, and the knowledge that she had not contacted him since that day he had snapped at her and told her to leave him. He regretted it so dearly now, but… nothing could change what he'd done. What she'd done.

They just had to keep on living with all their regrets and all their mistakes.

"If you're not happy here," Yoshimura said, "perhaps you should get a hobby."

"Mr. Life Coach, sir," Ayato said dryly, "you're forgetting the part where I have no talent towards anything."

"Well, that's certainly not true." Yoshimura sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. "I think your coffee is exquisite."

"Enough about my damn coffee already…"

The man smiled. "All jokes aside," he said, setting his cup down and looking at Ayato pointedly, "you remind me quite a bit of Yomo when he was your age."

"Yo… mo…?" Ayato couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. "That guy? He's so… not there."

"He has his reasons," Yoshimura said softly. He closed his eyes. "Didn't he teach you and Touka how to fight?"

"Well… yeah." Ayato scratched his head, thinking back to the recesses of his childhood and finding it difficult to remember Yomo Renji's part in it. "He was there, and he dragged us here, but… hey, old man, what are you playing at?"

"You like to fight," Yoshimura said, "don't you?"

Ayato's eyes narrowed. "I thought you said there was more to me than a fight," he said.

"That doesn't mean I think you should be helpless and depressed." Yoshimura shook his head. "Just think about it. Yomo would be more than happy to spar with you whenever you're free."

Ayato considered his words for a moment, a small shred of hope glimmering in the depths of his mess of emotions. "Spar?"

Yoshimura's smile as small but bright. "Whenever you're up to it, Ayato," he said.

The truth was, there was a storm brewing beneath his skin. It was as old as time itself, and it only grew with every passing hour, with every passing day.

He could not contain it. He was lightning, and he would strike.

* * *

There were some good, honest people in Aogiri.

" _Allora_! Could it be? The dazzling, the mesmerizing, the intoxicating Kirishima Touka?"

Tsukiyama Shuu was not one of them.

"Shittyama…" she muttered, her eyes rolling back into her skull. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the cause," he cooed, "of course!"

"Did you feed Tatara that bullshit?"

"Ask him yourself, my dear."

"Oh," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, "shut the hell up. Shut up. Oh my god."

Her job had not been easy. She had kept quiet, done what she was told— spared a good few innocent souls when she could, but otherwise she felt that she was burning. She had _known_ this would be hard, but acting like an obedient attack dog had never been something she thought she'd be good at.

Lucky her. She was fucking great at it.

It didn't mean she didn't hate every second of it.

And now Tsukiyama was here.

"Walk with me," Tsukiyama said, offering out his arm. Touka eyed it like it was something poisonous, and she brushed past him. The meeting didn't start for another twenty minutes, so they could probably scout the perimeter of the base. Since the warehouse, Aogiri had relocated to an awful abandoned fish distribution house that smelled so foul that she'd had half a mind to cut off her own nose, and now to the far preferable abandoned artillery factory that likely hadn't been in use since World War II.

The outskirts of the building was just a bunch of other abandoned buildings. This part of town was just one condemned structure after another. A perfect place for the homeless, and for ghouls.

"You seem well," Tsukiyama observed as they climbed a rusty fire escape. It squeaked precariously and swayed beneath their weight. Neither of them cared much. "Looking as beautiful as ever."

Touka had seen her reflection in the mirror a few days ago, the last time she'd been out of the factory. Her eyes were sunken and her hair was a nest of faded gray waves. She'd dyed it when she'd dyed Mutsuki's as a sign of solidarity, but now all the color was gone, and her hair was just a bleached out bob.

"Thanks," she said coldly. "I've been trying this new work out plan, so I guess that paid off."

Tsukiyama laughed, and she resisted the urge to kick him off the fire escape.

"I guess I should explain," he said, his face falling as they dropped down into an alley, "why I'm really here."

"That would be wise." Touka shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts. She was not wearing something she'd normally wear, as she was on a budget. Her jean shorts were a bit big for her liking, and she had bulky beige belt keeping them up. She also wore a knitted gray crop top that had slender straps. She noted the way Tsukiyama eyed her shoulders and collarbone, and she stepped on his foot. "Focus!"

"Right," he gasped, wincing a bit. "Right! Well, as you know, we have a mutual dear friend."

"Do we?"

"Oh, don't be like that." Tsukiyama frowned at her. "The way he sings your praises… honestly, you have no sense."

"Lots of men sing my praises," she said, knowing fully how haughty she sounded, "and yet here we are. Have I ever told you how much I hate you? Really?"

"I'm sure I've forgotten," Tsukiyama replied sweetly. It was a faux sweetness, but lighthearted all the same. She sighed and turned away. "He asked me to come here, you know. He's worried about you."

"I've done my job."

"He's worried. About _you_." Tsukiyama frowned, his expression spelling out his confusion to her. He didn't actually understand the extent of Kaneki's emotions, only that he felt them. It was possible, Touka reasoned, that he didn't even understand his own emotions, let alone someone else's. "You haven't talked to him in a while."

"I've been, um, _busy_." She gestured vaguely behind her. "I'm sorry if I don't hit him up for a weekly lunch. Like, what does he expect from me?"

"Well," Tsukiyama huffed indignantly, " _I_ don't know. I'm just the messenger. But you know, more than that, I'm a new player in this game."

"Ugh." She grimaced up at the sky. "Right. I really don't like the sound of that. You being _relevant_."

"Yes, well, get used to it." Tsukiyama looked all too proud, which was not a shocking thing for Tsukiyama. "I'm here to represent the Ghoul Restaurant."

"You mean the guys you told us you'd sell out in a heartbeat?"

"Now, now, don't be rude."

" _Ugh_." Touka whirled away. "Let's just go back. The meeting is about to start."

True enough, the meeting had already started when they slipped in. They didn't escape Tatara's eagle eyes, which zeroed in on the almost immediately. Eto sat at her place beside him, watching with equal amusement. Not even her bandaged face could hide that.

"Our newcomer has graced us with his presence." Tatara cocked his head, his cool eyes flashing to Touka's face. "Kirishima, why don't you introduce him, since you seem to know each other so well."

 _Goddamn it_ , she thought.

Through gritted teeth, she said, "This is Tsukiyama Shuu."

"What was that?"

"I'm Tsukiyama Shuu," Tsukiyama declared, taking a sweeping bow. "At your service!"

"Ah…" Touka stared at him for a moment before turning her face away sharply. _Gross._

"Right…" Tatara simply stared at Tsukiyama. Luckily, Tsukiyama wasn't the type to be deterred by someone thinking he was overdramatic or annoying. "Tsukiyama is here to represent the ghoul restaurant's services. That includes scrappers and their owners, I expect?"

"Of course." Tsukiyama smiled his smooth, wormy smile. "Whatever you need to continue this fine operation, we'll be glad to provide."

"And in return?"

"Ah, that _is_ how alliances work, isn't it?" Tsukiyama laughed. Touka realized quickly that this meeting had turned into a sort of political scheme rather fast. She didn't even know where the conversation had went and how it had gotten here. "The terms I was given were simple. We want meat. The Ghoul Restaurant is tied in with other industries such as the Auction House and some of my family's revenue— I am a frequent patron and have invested quite a bit of time and money into the whole operation, you understand— and anyway, the goal here is to keep all of these businesses running smoothly so _you_ can continue to operate with better efficiency."

 _He's talking like a business man,_ Touka thought wildly, trying to link together this well-spoken, concise Tsukiyama with the lacquered, flirtatious man that she hated.

"Meat," Tatara repeated. "You aren't lacking that at your Ghoul Restaurant, I'm sure."

"Of course not," Tsukiyama said, giving a good natured grin to the crowd. "However, like I said. The Restaurant isn't the only industry at work here. The Auction wants humans just as much as the restaurant does— possibly more so. They also want ghouls. Scrappers can be either, but depending on the master… well, they can be frightful beasts."

Tatara sighed. "We can spare the humans and throw in a few ghouls every now and again," he said. "However, we have a condition."

Tsukiyama, to his credit, did not show in his expression how much that terrified him. And Touka knew he was scared. She knew this was not part of the plan. She knew it because for a singular moment, one no one else caught, his eyes flickered fervently to hers. And then they flashed right back to Tatara, easy and unblinking.

"Of course," Tsukiyama said, offering out his hands. "Let's hear it, then!"

Eto stood up. Touka's hair stood on end, goosebumps rising on her arms, and she took a step back.

She had been here long enough to know that though Eto did not appear to do much, she was a frightful little thing.

"Won't you walk with me, Tsukiyama?" she asked, her small voice ricocheting off the tall ceiling. It beat against the metal rafters. It sang.

There was something hostile here too. They all felt it. Touka bit her tongue to keep from snapping at Tsukiyama not to do it. Instead she stared at his back expectantly, waiting for his eyes to swivel frantically to hers.

They did not.

"Why of course," Tsukiyama said faintly, " _chèri_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perendie [adv].  
> the day after tomorrow.


	40. incerto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mm has it been awhile?? idk man..
> 
> just kidding, i know it's been like a month. my excuse is thus: school. my updating schedule is not going to be as frequent just because of that. in addition, i don't follow the manga anymore so it's not like i'm getting my fill of inspiration. please be patient, and enjoy!

Hysy almost felt familiar as he stepped through the threshold, the old bell jingling away above their heads. The gaunt and mysterious masks that lined the walls, high foreheads and skull-like noses and Venetian style _voltos_. Displays, like museum exhibits, spotted the small showroom. Shirazu was already beside himself with excitement.

"Look at that!" He bounced toward a demonic looking mask that had not sold since the day Kaneki had met Uta. "That's some heavy detail, huh? Aw, I shoulda brought Urie, he'd get a kick outta this."

"I'm not sure if I entirely trust Urie with this place," Kaneki admitted. "We'll get him a temporary mask to start, and then see if he's ready for this. Also, he can always borrow yours."

"Or yours," Shirazu pointed out wryly. Mutsuki rose his eyes sharply to Kaneki, and he knew that the boy had not forgotten the Ghoul Restaurant.

"I've grown out of that phase of my life," Kaneki said weakly, feeling a bit like an old man, "thank you."

"Yeah, sure, okay." Shirazu snorted. "Like you wouldn't love to go out and wreak a little havoc."

"Havoc, hm?"

They all jumped, Shirazu's shout filling up the room sharply as they whirled around. Uta was standing by one of his creations, observing them curiously.

"Ken," he said warmly, his pierced lips pulling into a smile. "It's nice to see you. Have you already outgrown the mask I made you?"

"No, no," Kaneki said hastily, "my mask is fine! I'm actually here about…" He nudged Shirazu forward gently. The boy looked admittedly a little frightened as he took in the sight of Uta, his sleek black hair and black eyes and assorted piercings and tattoos. It didn't take long for Shirazu to get accustomed to it, a nervous smile falling easily onto his lips.

"Nice tats," he remarked. He squinted at the inked Greek lettering around Uta's neck. "What's that? Latin?"

"Greek letters," Uta replied, "but the phrase is Latin."

"Neat."

"Shirazu here needs a mask," Kaneki said brightly, clapping Shirazu on the shoulder. The boy jumped, and then flushed promptly. "I was hoping you'd be able to help."

"Certainly." Uta's unnerving eyes flickering curiously to Mutsuki, who had wandered away to observe some of the masks. Upon feeling Uta's gaze, Mutsuki became alert and shot to attention. He seemed nervous here. Kaneki felt guilty, because he often put Mutsuki into situations which made him uncomfortable, but the boy was too nice to say anything. "That eyepatch is pretty cool. Would you like a mask as well?"

"No," Mutsuki said quietly. "I'm just here for support."

"No?" Uta looked a bit disappointed. "Are you really sure? I'll throw in a discount."

"No… I…" Mutsuki glanced at Kaneki desperately.

"He's good, Uta," Kaneki said, smiling sheepishly. "Right now we just need something for Shirazu."

"Okay, then," Uta sighed wistfully, "if you say so. Shirazu, would you mind coming a bit closer? I'd like to see your face a bit better."

"Uh…"

"Or I can come to you." Uta produced a tape measurer from his pocket and shrugged. He took Shirazu's jaw in his bony fingers and all but pried it open. "Could you open your mouth?"

It was already open, Shirazu's sharp cry dying as he spoke, but he asked anyway.

"Your teeth are quite pointy, aren't they? Did you file them to make them so sharp?"

"No," Shirazu said weakly, "they're just really fucked up. I needed braces when I was younger, but we couldn't afford 'em."

"I think it's a very interesting feature. You shouldn't change something so unique." The tape measurer curled around Shirazu's mouth and prevented him from responding.

Kaneki had debated over this for months. The Painter hadn't been a real issue before, not really, but now that it was becoming an actual investigation it was best that he address the problem. He thought of himself as a pretty laid back parent. When Shirazu had begun to disappear into the wee hours of the morning, no explanation, just an exhausted but satisfied smile, Kaneki had decided not to ask out of respect for the boy's privacy.

"Do you think he has a girlfriend?" Kaneki had once asked Mutsuki, probably around mid-February.

Mutsuki had become immediately flustered, and a bit taken aback at the question. "Why are you asking me?" he squeaked.

Kaneki was satisfied that Yamori's torture had not changed him completely, satisfied in a way that he didn't think he'd ever feel again. Mutsuki had not broken irreparably like Kaneki had. Kaneki had broken like a porcelain vase shattering upon tile, while Mutsuki had broken like a brick being thrown through the stained glass window of a church. While Kaneki had been frantically scooped up, shattered pieces gathered in someone's shaky palms and distributed somewhere else for safe keeping, Mutsuki had been patched up with some cardboard. The repair man had already been called. He was going to heal.

"Well," Kaneki had said, offering his opaque red cup full of brain smoothie out to him, "you're always with him."

Mutsuki politely declined the brain smoothie by pushing the straw away gently. "That doesn't mean he tells me personal stuff like that," he'd muttered. "Besides, is it really our business?"

Kaneki considered it. And then he'd blurted, "Don't you think you're both a little _young_ —?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you!" Mutsuki had gasped, turning beat red and jumping off the stool of their kitchen counter. "Please ask him yourself, oh my gosh!"

Anyway, Kaneki _had_ ended up asking. It had turned out similarly. Shirazu had gone redder than Mutsuki, redder than Kaneki had seen anyone turn, and he'd immediately spilled everything.

"I've been with _Urie_!" he'd gasped, as though that saved him from the uncountable number of nights he hadn't come home until morning.

Kaneki had tried to wrap his head around that. He remembered it clearly now as he watched Uta line up his measuring tape with Shirazu's jaw. They had been in the living room, and Mutsuki had gone out for groceries (which were solely for Shirazu anyway), and the setting sun had cast a warm glow upon the chilly room.

"You've been sleeping with Urie?" Kaneki tried, feeling helplessly confused about this whole ordeal.

Of course he couldn't be blamed, could he? He'd never taken care of anyone before, much less _teenagers_. He was barely out of his teens himself, and though he'd never been a wild child, Shirazu certainly was. Kaneki had been inwardly panicking for weeks, reading online articles about STDs and STIs and— and how _young_ Shirazu was. Kaneki had never seen a real condom in his life. How was he supposed to father this child?

" _What_?" Shirazu had been struck quite breathless, his eyes bulging out of his head, and his face somehow growing even redder. At this point he'd looked almost purple, and Kaneki was genuinely very concerned that the boy had stopped breathing. "I— just— _what_?"

There was nothing quite so staggering as realizing you had completely misunderstood a situation to the point where you had to shift your entire point of view in order to see it clearly. Midnight ventures could mean anything, and he had jumped to conclusions only because of their frequency. He needed to be more careful with how he treated these children. They were not his.

"What _have_ you been doing?" he'd asked, trying to push his mistake behind him.

"We've been making murals!" Shirazu's voice broke as his voice raised rather hysterically. "Have ya really been thinkin'…? Kanekun, that's so skeevy!"

It had been Kaneki's turn to flush, and he'd opened his mouth to defend himself, but he found he had no excuse. He had simply panicked. Like an overprotective parent, the moment the thought passed his mind he'd gone utterly crazy trying to wrap his head around the idea that his young, innocent son could be doing something sexual. Horrific!

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," he murmured.

"Ya should be!" Shirazu huffed. "Damn, man! I didn't think ya would mind me comin' in at odd hours, and since there aren't any other real adults around, I mean… but I ain't _sleeping around_ , that's for sure!"

"I'm really sorry," Kaneki had said weakly.

Anyway, now they were here. Kaneki should have put a stop to it, but due to his incredibly incompetent parenting methods, he really just didn't want either of them to hate him. So here he was, getting Shirazu a goddamn ghoul mask. It was the least he could do, given the circumstances.

After all, The Painter was a ghoul activist. Possibly one of the only ones in existence. Shirazu and Urie, as impulsive and uncertain as they were, were causing _waves_.

There were ghoul organizations, of course, but they mostly acted like terrorist groups or gangs. Aogiri was a bit of both, if Kaneki had read their motives correctly. They did have a purpose and a goal, but they were also very tight knit and dangerous. A weird sort of mafia of ghouls.

The Painter was different, and everyone seemed to recognize that.

Kaneki had seen quite a few people take pictures of the murals that had begun to pop up around Tokyo. At least Urie and Shirazu were careful, and didn't stick to one ward for too long. Apparently their goal was to get one mural in every district, which was a pretty big feat on its own.

"I bet people find you a little intimidating," Uta remarked as he marked down the measurements of Shirazu's cheekbones. "You're very tall, and have some odd features."

"Right back at ya."

Uta smiled at Shirazu amiably, looking rather pleased with this reply. The tape snapped back, and he set it aside before taking Shirazu's face in his hands. He tipped it from once side to the other.

"Your ears are big, aren't they?"

Said ears turned faintly pink at this comment.

A defense of Shirazu rose in Kaneki's throat, but he swallowed it down. He didn't need to defend this boy from Uta. Uta was a friend, even if they technically didn't know each other well in this timeline.

"W-well…" Shirazu said, choking on his words. He shot a glance at Kaneki, who simply smiled in response. "I… guess so?"

"That's not a bad thing," Uta said. "I think they're very cute."

That only made Shirazu grow more and more red. Mutsuki had to hide a snicker in his hand, looking incredibly amused.

"I hear from a certain bird of augury," Uta said to Kaneki without looking up at him, "that the Kirishima siblings have completely switched places."

Kaneki's eyes narrowed. He saw Ayato on occasion, when he checked in on Hinami or went to visit Hide at work, but they hardly spoke. Kaneki had assumed the boy had gone mute until he remarked on his silence, and Hide had told him that Ayato only reserved the silent treatment for _him_. It was disheartening, to say the least.

"He would know better than I would," Kaneki said. "I hardly see either of them, and even when I see Ayato, he doesn't speak to me."

"Well he _is_ at an odd age, isn't he?" Uta shrugged and patted Shirazu on the shoulders. "All done. Oh, Kaneki, could you give Ren something for me? I'd deliver it myself, but it would ruin the surprise."

"Sure," Kaneki said, finding it difficult to say no. After all, he had seen so little of Yomo lately, and it was making his insides sort of ache with the sting of nostalgia. He turned his attention to Mutsuki and Shirazu. "Okay, guys, all set?"

"You're gonna let me pay for the mask, right?" Shirazu said when Uta went into his back room to fetch whatever item he wanted delivered to Yomo.

"Hm? Oh!" Kaneki laughed, and he patted Shirazu gently on the arm. "No way."

"But—!"

"Nope!" Kaneki shook his head. "No, absolutely not."

"Kanekun!" Shirazu whined.

Uta returned with a box and a note, depositing it into Kaneki's arms and smiling brightly. "I'll deliver the mask personally," he said, "once I finish it. As a sort of thank you for this. Okay?"

"I don't mind," Kaneki said, smiling back at Uta warmly. Mutsuki was watching him with a certain degree of curiosity that came with living with Kaneki for so long. They both know that Mutsuki had noticed how quickly Kaneki got attached to people. That had always been a problem of his, but it had gotten ten times worse the moment he'd gone back in time. Not that Mutsuki would ever suspect that.

They left quickly, stepping out into the sunlit alley, perspiration already starting to prickle beneath Kaneki's bangs. The sounds of distant footfalls and beeping cars were dampened by the wall of heat, and nothing seemed to pierce that wall but the steady wail of a nearby cicada.

"That was eventful," he said, checking his watch. "And time to spare. I'll just go drop this off, then."

"Who's Ren?" Shirazu asked, his voice a bit muffled. There was a distinct shifting noise, the sort of _snap_ of a thumb igniting a lighter. The chalky staleness of smoke confirmed Kaneki's suspicion.

"He works for Anteiku."

"Really?" Mutsuki sounded confused. "I've never met a Ren— _oh_."

"What?" Shirazu's bewildered voice was muffled by his cigarette. "What am I missing?"

"Yomo Renji," Mutsuki said quietly. "Right, Kaneki?"

"That's right." They stepped out onto the street, looking stiff and uncomfortable as the summer sun baked them in their white coats. They stood on the sidewalk at an intersection, waiting for a red light to turn green. Shirazu's cigarette burned brightly, an imitation sun glowing between his bony knuckles.

"He was a strange man," Mutsuki said suddenly.

"Yomo?"

"Uta."

Kaneki couldn't really counter that. "Ah," he said. "Well… yeah. He's a little scary at first, but I don't think he's a bad person."

"No?" Mutsuki frowned.

"He seemed a little…" Shirazu grimaced. He brought his cigarette to his lips. "Off?"

"Yeah," Mutsuki agreed. "That's a good word for it."

"You guys just don't know him."

"Okay, Kaneki."

The light turned, and they made their way across the street. Kaneki held the box and the note carefully together, nervous that the note could blow away at any given moment. It fluttered feebly beneath his thumb, and he tucked the box beneath his arm, turning the paper in his hand. There wasn't much on it, just a few words.

And then Kaneki actually read them.

_Ren,_

_I hope Ayato enjoys the mask! Please tell me if the measurements are off, since it has been so long since I saw your—_

The box slipped from beneath his arm.

"What…?" he said weakly.

* * *

Obviously a few sparring matches wouldn't fucking help. Ayato didn't know what Yoshimura had been thinking. All that had happened was that Ayato got his ass handed to him on a platter countless times. On top of that, it didn't calm his nerves. He'd knocked Hinami's hand painted planter off the kitchen window, and was frantically prying the pieces from the small mound of dirt.

"Shit," he muttered, throwing the towel full of glass into the sink and looking around the kitchen anxiously. He saw a plastic container next to the sink, and he grabbed it, dropping to his knees and plucking the stubby looking succulent out of the dirt and depositing it into the plastic tub. He gathered the dirt in his hands and shoveled it around the succulent's roots. It shifted and rustled as the bedroom door crept open.

"Ayato?" Hinami called sleepily. "I heard a… oh."

"It's fine," he muttered, aligning the succulent so it stood upright in the container. "Go back to sleep, Hinami."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Let me—"

"I've got it!" he snapped, tearing the succulent away from her and dropping it onto the counter. "I've got this! Okay? I've _got_ this, so just… go back to sleep."

"I was just napping," she said, picking up a broom and dust pan from the closet and coming closer.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, you know."

"It's fine," she said, brushing the dirt into the dustpan. "I like it better this way."

Ayato shifted uncomfortably on the floor. He couldn't get a read on the real reason why. It could be as simple as that she was uncomfortable staying in the same room as a boy she was not related to, or it could be much deeper. She could truly just not like him and be too nice to say so. Or maybe she didn't trust him.

All of these thoughts made him sick. The worst part was, he felt like if he had someone else in the room at night, he might sleep a little better. But he'd never tell Hinami that.

"Weren't you supposed to be sparring with Yomo?" Hinami asked. It was an innocent question, but it still made him freeze up. Hinami watched him, her eyes widening. "Or… um… hey, do you want to watch a movie?"

"No," Ayato sighed, feeling utterly defeated as he rose to his feet.

"Ayato…" Hinami set the broom aside, and she stepped toward him tentatively. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

She pursed her lips, her disbelief rolling off her in waves. She tapped her bare foot against the tile, waiting out the ticking seconds until he cracked. She knew him a little too well by now. He always cracked.

"He's just so _quiet_!" He flung his hands into the air exasperatedly, marching from the kitchen and into the living room. "He kicks my ass from here to _Seoul_ , and he doesn't even give me a sign that he thinks I'm improving! Like, have you ever seen me fight?"

"Ah…" Hinami crossed over to the couch he'd collapsed on, and sat on the table beside it tentatively. "Well, yes… remember when you beat up Kaneki?"

"Oh." Ayato scowled. _Kaneki_. That asshole. He was always lurking around, a fucking ghoul turned dove or dove turned ghoul or _whatever_. He had essentially fucked up everything somehow, making Touka do all these crazy things in the name of protection. It wasn't fair! How could one person alter life so utterly, and not even really be there to watch the ripples he made turn into waves?

"Well," Hinami continued, flattening out her skirt idly, "that was kind of scary. I've never really seen someone fight like that before."

"I'm good, right?"

"Yeah…" She tucked a stubborn piece of honey colored hair behind her ear, the bits of hair that didn't fit into her stubby ponytail. Her roots had sprung through the black dye a few months back, and Hide had offered to dye it a different color for her. Ayato had watched quietly from the edge of the bathtub as Hide painted her hair white and then somehow a soft amber hue with a great deal of effort and time. Some 90s American boyband had been playing on the stereo he'd brought with him. Ayato didn't want to admit that it had been a fun thing to experience.

He didn't like to admit a lot of things about himself.

Like that the people here were not as annoying as he'd initially assumed.

Like that he'd found himself unable to find solace in speaking to anyone but Hinami.

Like that he missed his sister. Utterly. Terribly.

There was an ache in his chest that wouldn't go away, and he wanted so badly to cut his heart out and let it shrivel up and die. Maybe then this aching would stop.

"Anyway…" Ayato sunk into the couch, scowling irritably at the wall. "I yelled at him. Yomo, I mean. He's such a bastard, you know? Like does he really think he's so above me that he can just not even _speak_ to me after he hands my ass to me on a silver platter? Ugh!"

"Yomo is a nice guy, Ayato," Hinami said gently. "Maybe you're misjudging him."

"He's so weird and creepy!"

"So are you, you know."

" _What_?"

Hinami flushed, her eyes flashing away from his face suddenly. Her voice wavered slightly as she said, "I just meant—"

"You meant _what_?" Ayato snapped, watching her face fall abruptly at his tone. She bit her lower lip, a mournful expression passing her tender face. "I'm weird and creepy _how_? Because I'm always breaking shit? Because I'm always waking you up in the middle of the night? Because I panic so easily— _what,_ Hinami? What is it?"

"I didn't mean it," she whispered. Her shoulders rose to her ears, his words berating viciously onto her back and causing her to sink under the pressure. "I'm sorry, Ayato. There's nothing wrong with you, I— I just meant… you and Yomo are sort of alike, in a way, don't you think?"

"Why do people keep saying that?" Ayato huffed, sinking just as well, feeling regret well up inside him. Hinami sounded close to tears. He hadn't meant to do that. He'd just been angry because… well… he was so inadequate, wasn't he? "We couldn't be more different."

Hinami glanced at him, her eyes big and full of unparalleled kindness.

"You might be a little louder and more outspoken," she said, "but I think deep down you're fundamentally alike. There's something beneath all that stubborn hardness. Neither of you know how to show it, so it gets buried down so deeply that you think that no one will ever see it. But I do."

Ayato stared at her, stunned into silence for a moment as her words hit him hard. He understood what she was saying, and he found his insides growing strangely warm, his chest seizing for a moment before relaxing completely. He looked down, and he shook his head.

"Bullshit," he muttered.

Hinami smiled, and she offered a shrug. "That's just how I see it," she said, laughing sheepishly. "But, um… did you really yell at Yomo?"

"Yeah, of course."

Hinami shook her head. "You and Touka," she murmured. Ayato frowned deeply, and almost objected to that. She spoke too soon, however. "Go apologize."

"What?" Ayato slid back, offended that she'd advise such a thing from _him_. "Are you joking?"

"Of course not."

"I'm not fucking apologizing."

"Then I'm not talking to you ever again."

" _Bullshit_."

Hinami stood up and turned her back on him.

"Oh my god," Ayato breathed, "Hinami— are you fucking—? No, this won't last. You'll crack."

"Go apologize."

"Why?" Ayato grimaced at the thought of going to Yomo's apartment just to say he was _sorry_ for calling him a hollow shell with no emotions to speak of— ah. Maybe that _had_ been a little harsh. "Ugh… fine. Whatever."

Hinami didn't show her shock, but he could sense it from her. Her eyes flashed to his, and he noted that they were bewildered. He got up and went to his shoes at the door, sliding them on and smoothing back his hair.

"If this goes badly," he said, jerking a finger at Hinami, "I'm blaming you."

"Sure," she said, her voice strained from disbelieving laughter.

He walked out of the apartment, and he realized that this was probably the first time in weeks he was venturing out of Anteiku's boundaries. He knew where Yomo lived— he'd been there once or twice, and already had a map of where to go in his head— but it was all so strange and new. He felt lost in a grid of streets, lost in city lights and crowds of people, lost in a place that had never felt so homey before.

Koma seemed to find it hilarious and shocking that he was up and about, and _not_ in his Anteiku uniform.

"Are those, dare I say, _joggers_?" Koma pressed his hand over his heart as Ayato passed by the counter on his way to the door. "You're going out? Into the world? Do you want me to pack you dinner?"

"Go to hell, Koma."

The street was still rather sunny, despite the nearing sunset. People were bustling around, rushing home from work, grabbing their dinners, taking their children for ice cream. He walked, making his way steadily down the path he had set for himself. He stuck to the main streets at first, and then as time wore on, he found himself wandering through the back alleys.

Growing up in Tokyo, particularly on the streets, made it easy to map out shortcuts between buildings. He passed through a rather narrow, sketchy alleyway, his head nearly brushing a low fire escape. He stuck his hands in his pockets, sweat prickling at the back of his neck as the summer heat rolled through the dark alley in waves.

He exited the narrow alley into a bigger alley, and came face to face with a boy crouching on a scaffold. Ayato looked up at him, the setting sun burning the brick building like an oil-slick candle wick, bathing everything from the boy's waist up in gold. He was wearing a pair of beaten sneakers, ripped jeans with an assortment of paint smears, and a jersey cut off that seemed no better off. His eyes were beady and black, the sunlight ringing his coal-like irises with gold like a gilded marble. Dark, sweaty hair fell against his ears and his forehead, and a black kerchief covered the entire lower half of his face.

The only feature of his that truly stood out were the twin moles beneath his left eye.

They stared at each other, clearly bewildered by the other's presence, taking in what they saw and trying to understand it. Ayato saw a rebellious kid killing some time. It was summer, and there were kids making a mess of the city all over the place. He didn't know what this boy saw in him, but it was probably nothing out of the ordinary. Ayato was wearing Touka's joggers and a band tee shirt of hers that was luckily made to be too big on _anyone_ who wore it.

And then Ayato looked at the boy's hands. They were black, like he'd been tinkering with a car all day, and there was a paint smeared cloth in one hand and a thick paintbrush in another.

Then Ayato looked up at the building. Really looked.

"Oh," he said faintly, blinking dazedly up at the fiery eyes that displayed an artistic depiction of some ghoul's kakugan.

Of course Ayato had seen these murals in the news. Half of them had been painted over by the city already, and they were calling the ghoul who did them the Painter, of all things. The originality of the CCG astounded him, truly. He'd never expected it to be a boy his age, though.

Especially a _human_ boy.

Without warning, the boy dropped what he was holding and pulled a _gun_ on him.

"What the—!" Ayato stepped back, throwing his hands in the air instinctively. It's not like he had a fucking kagune to shield him, right? Where would a kid even _get_ a gun, like—!

All at once he remembered how one of the Bin Brothers had died. The gun that had made its way into Touka's possession. The teenage dove that had escaped.

"Who are you?" the boy asked. His voice was unnervingly calm and cool, like he'd done this half a dozen times.

"No one who's gonna turn you in," Ayato said dully, " _asshole_. Put the fucking gun down! I'm just trying to get someplace, not _die_!"

The boy didn't look so convinced. His eyes narrowed. He leveled the gun and he glanced up at the mural. "You a ghoul?" he asked.

"Dude…" Ayato pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. You need to…" He couldn't believe he was about to help this dumb motherfucker. "Come down here. Switch shirts with me."

" _What_?"

"You're gonna get yourself _killed_ ," Ayato snapped, "you _dumbass_. You do know ghouls can smell other ghouls, right?" Ayato shook his head. He didn't care about the gun. Let the dumbass shoot him, honestly. Ayato was so past the point of caring, like if some stupid human boy gunned him down in an alley, well that was fucking it, then. It might as well happen. "Honestly I could just go on my merry fucking way, 'cause I know I've got places to be, but it doesn't look like you're done with that picture, and frankly you could just end up dying if you're caught out here after dark."

The boy frowned deeply. Ayato noted the way he gripped the gun in one hand, such surety in his grasp, the kind of easy hold that a coldblooded killer would use. But Ayato wasn't scared.

He was scared of many things. Dying was not one of them.

Cautiously the boy lowered the gun. He lifted one hand to a bar of the scaffold, and began to lower himself toward the ground. Ayato watched. He pulled his shirt up by the hem, pried it over his head, and wadded it up in his hands. The boy looked absolutely puzzled now.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked slowly.

"Why are you making art that supports ghouls," Ayato retorted. He flung the shirt into the boy's face. "Because I fucking feel like it, that's why."

The boy inhaled sharply. And then he pocketed his gun. It still had the safety on. "Fair enough," he said. He pulled his paint stained blue jersey over his head, and Ayato reached out and took it. They watched each other for a moment, his hands staining Touka's shirt, Ayato's hands thumbing the slippery blue mesh.

"Thanks," the boy said shortly. He held the shirt out, and he tilted his head curiously. "Galileo Galilei."

"Huh?"

"The band on your shirt?" He was already tugging it on, his eyes softening a bit, as though somehow this apparent shared interest had made him less suspicious.

"Oh," Ayato frowned. He'd never really put any thought to the band. But now that he looked at the shirt, a white tee with a stag's face on the front, its eyes replaced by crudely doodled clocks. "That's actually my sister's shirt."

The boy looked down at the shirt. It had smudges of black paint on it now.

"Do you think she'll miss it?"

Ayato snorted, and he tugged on the blue jersey. "I don't care," he said. "It's yours now. Have at it."

And with that, he left the alleyway, feeling a little rattled after this strange encounter. Not because he could have died— if he was affected every time there was a threat to his life, he'd go insane— but because this strange human boy had just… existed.

Life could be such an odd little beast sometimes.

When he arrived at Yomo's apartment building, the sun was finally making its final descent over the horizon, shadows dipping through the streets and burnishing the tops of buildings. He let himself in, finding the dingy apartment complex to be an almost welcoming sight after the idyllic interior of Anteiku had properly stifled him. He had lived most of his life in the gutter, dirt on his cheek and blood on his teeth, so places like this where the floorboards seemed a little uneven to the step and the drop ceiling had a few mysterious stains— these places rung with familiarity. Nostalgia, even.

He didn't realize his error until he was already at the door. It wasn't that his hearing was bad— it was usually incredibly on point. But he'd been distracted, and now he was standing in front of Yomo's apartment, the low rumbling of his voice slipping through the wood and reaching his ears.

"—don't want them to find out this way."

Another voice, a familiar one at that, responded sharply. "And keeping them in the dark is so much better?"

Yomo didn't reply, and the voice, a young man's soft yet biting voice, sighed very hard.

"I'm sorry," he said. The sound of the apology seemed to seep under the crack beneath the door and pool beneath Ayato's feet. "I'm sorry I looked. I'm sorry I found out, but now that I know— Yomo, it's not fair to them."

"This isn't your business," Yomo said, "Kaneki."

 _Kaneki_ , Ayato thought with the kind of cold fury that he imagined gods to have before they wreaked havoc and wiped out entire civilizations. _Kaneki Ken, walking disaster. Why are you always there when I need you_ _ **least**_ _?_

"I know," Kaneki said quietly, "I know. But can't you at least… I mean, I know how much it would mean to them. To Touka, especially."

"Please," Yomo said, his low voice very small. It was almost difficult for Ayato to hear him. "Don't tell her."

"I wouldn't… Yomo, I know we… don't know each other all that well, but I would never do that. She's _your_ niece. You should be the one to tell her that."

Ayato felt like a pulse had just thudded through him, like an old wound that had torn open unexpectedly. He stared at the wooden door in front of him with wide eyes, eyes that got wider by the seconds that passed. The initial shock took an entire minute to wear away, a minute of the conversation that Ayato had missed, a minute that was filled with bated breath and sweaty palms.

He backed away from the door. His back hit the opposite wall, and he felt his heart pounding viciously, in his chest, in his throat, in his head.

_Niece?_

When he tuned back into the conversation, it seemed to be on an entirely different topic.

"—always regret telling her that Ayato was part of Aogiri," Yomo was saying softly. "If I had just kept it to myself, she never would have…"

"You were worried about Ayato," Kaneki breathed, his voice brimming with the sort of disbelief of someone who had just realized something crucial. Disbelief that he hadn't realized before, maybe. "Yomo, you can't blame yourself for that. You had to make a really difficult choice."

There was a short pause, which for Ayato was filled simply by his own short breaths. He was trying to keep them quiet so neither men would hear.

"And who did I save?" Yomo whispered. "Neither of them. They were both hurt irreparably by my choice."

Another silence stretched on between these two, and as Ayato listened, he found he couldn't quite believe it. It didn't add up. Yomo Renji, the broody weirdo, was supposedly… Touka's _uncle_? _Ayato's_ uncle?

He sunk slowly, the man's words whirling inside his head. _Who did I save? Neither. My choice. My choice. My choice._ Ayato's back slid down the wall, his eyes fixed dazedly on the door. The longer he stared, the more it seemed to morph.

"You can't dwell on stuff like that," Kaneki murmured. "To blame yourself… it's a painful thing. In a way, blaming yourself is just a form of self-isolation. Don't isolate yourself anymore, Yomo. Let people in. Let _them_ in."

The door was tall and it was skinny.

"You don't know," Yomo said, "what I've done. Who I've been. You don't know the story."

The door was fat and it was squat.

"I don't need to know the story to know that it's not your fault," Kaneki said softly.

The door was there. It was there, in front of him, and he knew that, but somehow it was also half a mile away, stretching down a narrow corridor and shrinking from his sight.

"I should have been there."

"Saying that won't change what happened. You're here now. Why don't you make it count?"

"I do. I try. They don't want me around."

"That's not true— Touka loves you!"

"Touka's heart is bigger than her eyes," Yomo said gravely, "just like her mother. Just like her father."

The door should not even exist. It should just disappear.

"That's true," Kaneki said softly. Fondly. The tone of his voice made Ayato feel sick, and then sicker. "But think how things would change if she _knew_."

"Have you thought for a second," Yomo said, "that I don't want things to change?"

"But they already have."

The silence begged like a dog before him. It was so hollow. It needed to be filled.

"I'm not what they need."

"Why do you think that?"

"I'm…" Yomo struggled, like the words were stuck in his head or his throat, and he couldn't quite grasp what he was trying to say. "I'm not good enough. I can't show them the— the emotional… support, or guidance that they need. They'd be better off with Yoshimura."

"That's all well and good, but they still deserve to know."

"They'll want to know. Why."

"Why?"

"Why I never told them before."

"You should find something to tell them, then."

Yomo sighed deeply. When he spoke, his gravelly voice was simultaneously soft and broken. "It would never be enough," he said. "I owe those children more than I can give."

"Then give them what you can," Kaneki replied gently, "and let them take care of the rest."

"It's not that simple."

"Sometimes it is."

"Ayato hates me."

"Ayato hates everyone." Kaneki sounded so sure. So, so sure. "It's probably nothing personal. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to accept you, though. Especially if you can tell him about his parents."

"I didn't… know their father very well…"

"I don't think that matters, Yomo."

A voice from directly above Ayato broke him from his concentration, the words becoming muffled behind walls and a closed door.

"What are you doing down there, kid?"

Ayato's face had been in his knees, and at the sound of someone else speaking over him, his head shot up. Panic washed over him, leaving him cold and fighting an adrenaline rush. He wanted to bolt. He wanted nothing more than to run as fast as he could, as far as he could, and to never look back for as long as he lived.

Above him, Nishio Nishiki watched curiously, looking like he had found a stray cat and was not quite sure what to do. His bleached white hair curled softly around his face, a look he had recently cultivated to counteract his previous punk rock image. He was now going for what he had called an "angelic librarian" look.

When Ayato didn't answer, Nishiki frowned. He followed Ayato's eyes toward the door. "Uh," he said, striding toward Yomo's apartment. "You wanna come in?"

The door opened, and Ayato sat, stunned and mute, as Yomo stood in the doorway. Their eyes met, and the sudden understanding that passed through him became too much to bear.

In his head, he heard Yoshimura, he heard Hinami, he heard, _"You and Yomo are alike, alike, alike."_

It drowned out all reason. It drowned out all thought.

And, on instinct, he found himself stumbling to his feet. He shoved past Nishiki, his eyes still glued to Yomo's, and he ran.

* * *

Fear was an incredible feeling.

To believe you are safe, to live in that comfort for even just a little while, it made it all the worse when reality called.

Waiting for Tsukiyama to return was one of those feelings.

It wasn't that she was worried about him— well, maybe she was a little concerned that he was dead, but that was beside the point. After he had talked to Eto, he'd bolted from Aogiri so fast that it had made Touka's head spin. Since then she'd tried to make herself busy with the coded note she'd hand off to an undercover dove. The code was some military thing. She'd learned it hastily before returning here, and had been tested every day for a solid week before the CCG deemed her somewhat proficient in the technique.

Occupying her time like this didn't quell her fear, but she had to make do somehow.

"Those words look pretty complicated."

Touka had noticed Naki was there, but she was also well aware that Naki could not read. She continued to write somberly.

"They are," she said, "I guess."

"Ya must be pretty smart. Going to school and all."

Touka sighed. She'd helped get this boy out of a wagon bound for Cochlea a little while back— a bargain she'd made with the CCG to keep her cover. They amped up security at Cochlea, but allowed her to take out a transfer van or two to keep up appearances. She didn't want to think about the poor driver. In her report, she'd given up the name of the ghoul who had killed him.

Later that week, she watched that ghoul get diced into tiny pieces.

When she told Tatara about it later, she was still shaking. Her voice had been thin, wavering as she spoke of her narrow escape.

"Not really," she admitted to Naki, setting her note aside and tucking it into the copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ that she had stolen from Kaneki months ago. "I mean I guess I was okay at some things, but literature always was tricky for me."

"I'll bet."

Naki had a weird habit of coming to her and talking to her. He liked to talk about Yamori, and he asked her a whole bunch of questions about him after finding out that she had apparently spent a lot of time with him prior to his death. He also seemed interested in learning how to read and write, but he had yet to actually ask her.

"Is there something you wanted?" she asked, tossing the book onto her futon and tilting her head. "A mission, or…?"

"Oh, yeah!" Naki smacked his forehead. "Eto was looking for you earlier. Somethin' about that Shittyama guy."

"What?" Touka jumped to her feet. "Are you kidding? Fucking Tsukiyama…"

Naki followed her out of her room, blabbing about something or other with his fellow White Suits. She didn't know if that was their actual name or not. She didn't care enough to ask.

"Tsukiyama," she exhaled, meeting the man's eye as she made it to the meeting hall. He was sitting on the floor, looking incredibly uncomfortable with Eto on one side of him, and a girl Touka vaguely recognized on the other.

 _Wait,_ she thought numbly. _Isn't this the girl I…?_

Suddenly Touka felt a little sick.

"Sit, Touka," Eto said, her slender hand patting the space beside her. "Tsukiyama here refused to proceed without you present."

"Proceed?" Touka said weakly. "Proceed with what?"

"You can go now, Naki," Eto said as Touka slowly sat down. She stared at Tsukiyama expectantly, but he was looking down at his lap. This did not bode well for anyone involved. On Touka's other side, the small girl was watching her curiously. Studying her face, her body language, and looking all too intrigued.

"We're making a deal," Tsukiyama said quietly.

"A lucrative one, I hope," Eto said brightly. "Touka, I expect you've heard of the Painter."

"The…?" Touka blinked rapidly. She had heard the name, of course, but it was such a low priority thing— a ghoul who paints? Honestly, no one had even seen the guy, let alone gauged how powerful he was. It was interesting, but not exactly worth the time investigating. "What's going on? What does some… some ghoul activist have to do with anything?"

"A ghoul activist," Eto said, "might just be the perfect opportunity to stir up the city. Get some people to turn their heads our way _without_ large scale operations like what we had planned for Cochlea. And our little friend here can help."

"Hello." The girl to Touka's left waved lazily. "I'm Hori. I'm a freelance photographer, and have been keeping a blog dedicated to the Painter's murals."

"Oh," Touka said faintly. "And… you're okay with all of this? This ghoul stuff?"

"I'm Tsukiyama's best friend," she explained. Touka's eyes widened, and she glanced at Tsukiyama in disbelief. He looked rather smug, and Hori sighed. "Yeah, I know. Shocking that this dumbass has friends, right?"

"Especially human ones." Touka found herself oddly pleased with this information. "And you don't mind it at all? You don't find it strange?"

"Hm?" Hori blinked, and she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I guess it is kinda strange. I was scared witless, I think, when I first found out, but when I realized he wasn't gonna eat me… I dunno. It stopped being a problem, I guess."

"You were _scared_ of me, Chie?" Tsukiyama chirped. Hori looked unfazed. "Oh, the shame… scaring _mon ami_..."

"Boy," Touka said coolly, "you scare everyone in a five foot radius just by standing there leering at them. Don't act so damn shocked."

Hori smirked, lowering her head a bit to hide it. "I don't actually know who does the art," she admitted. "Sorry to disappoint, I'm as much a spectator in this as you are, Miss Eto."

"That's fine," Eto said, her small, whispery voice carrying between them. "If you continue doing what you're doing, and your photographs reach more and more people… well, you'll be doing us a great favor."

"As long as you don't kill me," Hori said, "and I don't have to change up my style, I feel like we could work well together. What do you want, pictures of actual ghouls next to these things?"

"If you think that will turn heads."

"I'm an artist, not a strategist." Hori leaned forward, her large brown eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What do _you_ think?"

Eto sat, her baggy dress pulled over her knees as she rested her chin lightly on them. "I think," she said, "you need to be careful who you show. Obviously the CCG is tracking your work, and it would be stupid to give them faces to hold on to."

"But masks are different," Touka pointed out. "The CCG already knows the masks of most of Aogiri's senior members— Hori could take pictures of ghouls that already have bounties on them. They wouldn't be in anymore danger than they already are in, and the CCG would probably end up using the photos themselves and spreading the message further."

"Using the photos themselves?" Tsukiyama said distantly. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Because they don't have clear pictures of any ghoul's mask," she said. "They usually just get an artist to recreate someone's testimony. Trust me, I scouted out the headquarters in the 20th ward once, and all of their wanted posters are _garbage_. If we can get a ghoul in front of a mural and make it impossible to extricate the ghoul's mask from the art—"

"The CCG would be essentially selling ghoul propaganda," Hori said softly.

"So what you're saying, Touka," Eto said in her bell-like voice, "is that you would love to model for Hori?"

"What?" Touka had not been saying that at all, and in fact the thought filled her with undeniable terror. How was she supposed to sell _this_ to the CCG?

"Obviously you're the best choice," Eto laughed, her giggle dripping onto the floor like droplets of rain. "The CCG doesn't know my mask or my face, just my name. Tatara isn't very photogenic— well, okay, maybe I'll ask him too. Noro is a bit too creepy for the message we're trying to send. And of course Ayato is gone."

Touka's face darkened at that fact.

"You have a beautiful mask, a captivating presence, _and_ the CCG have seen you before. You're the obvious choice."

Touka was still thinking about Ayato. The last time she had seen him, his face had been ghastly, his scrawny body half tangled in sheets, and his tongue had spat poison at her. She was dwelling on it. She had dwelled on it since the moment it had happened. She would continue to dwell on it, probably, until the day she died.

"Well," Tsukiyama piped up, sounding all too pleased with this turn of events, "I second that. I've always said you could be a model, haven't I, Kirishima?"

"No."

"Well, I've thought it!"

Touka rolled her eyes. She glanced down at Hori, who had clearly not signed up for any of this, but was just trying to make the best of the situation anyway. It was probably better, anyway, if a ghoul who wasn't out for blood was the one around the human girl.

"Okay," Touka said quietly. "I'll do it."

Hori watched her with clever eyes, her face utterly composed as she nodded curtly.

"Then it's a deal," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> incerto, incertare, incertavi, incertatus.  
> to render doubtful, to make uncertain.


	41. merula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i have to apologize for the late update. once again my only explanation is school. i don't actually write during the week, which is very strange for me. i also work on the weekends, so that generally leaves very little time for writing. on top of that i don't even read the manga anymore so getting inspiration is pretty hard. but i'm trying!! anyway, please send me feedback while i try to get through this hell semester. i'm trying my best here ;o;

Could Kaneki go one day without fucking up?

He had just come to deliver the goddamn package. He'd done that. And then, of course, he'd overstepped his boundaries by breaching the topic of Yomo's relation to the Kirishimas. The man hadn't denied it, but had simply asked that Kaneki keep quiet, and Kaneki had _still_ pushed him. Why?

Because he was an arrogant man. Arrogant men were too stubborn to see the truth.

"I'm sorry," he said faintly as Ayato went running. "I had no idea—"

"What the hell did I miss?" Nishiki asked sharply. Yomo merely shook his head. He stepped out into the hall tentatively, the box that Kaneki had delivered still held gingerly in his hands, and his expression muted for all the obvious pain and confusion that toiled within him. There was so much that Kaneki didn't know, didn't understand— that he _couldn't_ understand. He was an only child, and all the family he'd had had either died when he had been too young to know what family meant, or had been truly awful.

Yomo was mourning his losses, layer upon layer of them.

"Go," Kaneki said.

Yomo looked up at him. His dark eyes lingered pitifully on Kaneki's face, the bemusement clear as his mouth parted and closed sullenly. Whatever he wanted to say, it died in his throat.

"Go!" Kaneki stepped out into the hall and gave Yomo a steady shove. "Go after him!"

"That seems like a bad idea…"

"Of course it does," Kaneki breathed. His immense guilt over this entire situation was burning inside him, and he felt the need to act fast before all the fire burned out and left him frozen. "Of course it's a stupid idea! But it's no more stupid than letting him run off on his own, when he's obviously in shock! Yomo, he _needs_ you!"

Yomo's eyes grew very wide, and when he spoke his voice was timid. "You're exaggerating," he murmured.

Kaneki's nervousness burrowed deep in his belly. The tips of his fingers seemed to tingle, and when he breathed, it felt short.

"Being alone is awful," he said, "isn't it?"

Yomo merely stared mutely, his tired eyes glued to Kaneki's face. His silence was an answer of its own, an endless parade of questions pooled into a singular look. He was a man who had faced the world, faced its hardships, and ripped it apart at the seams. And when he had finished wreaking havoc, he had stood back and let the tide of change wash over him.

What a lonely existence. To live for nothing but anger until your anger burned you out. To be burned out and have nothing to show for it.

"Don't let him be alone," Kaneki said. "It's better to try and fail, than to never have tried at all, right?"

Whatever the man was thinking, it was impossible to tell. He held the same expression for what might have been half a millennia. And then he turned his eyes away.

Without another word, Yomo started down the hall. Kaneki watched as his brisk walk turned into a sprint, and then into a run, and then he was gone.

Kaneki slumped against the doorframe, relief washing over him like a cool breeze, and he exhaled. Ayato was having a hard time— a harder time than Kaneki could really imagine or relate with. He'd been through his fair share of pain, but all of his injuries had technically healed. Ayato had to live with the knowledge that he was fundamentally different than every other ghoul— that he could never go back to the way he was before.

It would be enough to send anyone spiraling into a depression. But Kaneki didn't think it was impossible to overcome.

He'd seen a lot of terrible things in this world. He'd seen so many people fall… and for what? To what end?

To fall was inevitable. Life was just years of accumulating hubris, and deciding one day to try and touch the sun.

Everyone was an Icarus. Everyone fell.

But falling and dying were not the same thing.

To fall and to keep going… yeah.

Yeah. That was just part of life.

"Shit, man," Nishiki breathed, raking a hand through his shaggy white curls. "What's going on? I know Ayato's been really down lately, but—"

"What was your family like, Nishio?" Kaneki murmured.

Nishiki fell abruptly silent. This man who Kaneki had known once, a long time ago, was like a reflection of the person he saw now. Their features were similar, but the differences were all too recognizable. This Nishio Nishiki was a little less well groomed, with wild white curls that framed a rather serene looking face. He wore a blue button up shirt, small black birds gliding across it in a mesmerizing pattern. The first two buttons were unbuttoned, and he had dirt beneath his nails, but overall he gave off a rather amicable vibe. Studious and approachable— not the kind of man who would trick you and your friend into coming down a deserted alley to kill you.

"Oh," Nishiki said flatly, "boy… you really know how to make a guy's skin crawl, huh?"

Kaneki didn't respond. He knew that was true enough.

"Damn." Nishiki took a deep breath. He glanced up at Kaneki, and he shrugged. "My parents died when I was real young. For a while it was just my older sister and me— she took care of me, basically raised me. And then she died."

Kaneki pushed off the doorframe and turned towards Nishiki. "That's something you and Yomo have in common," he said.

Nishiki's expression remained the same, vacant and startled as he said softly, "What?"

Yomo's quiet words were whirling around in his head. _"The note isn't false. Kirishima Arata married my older sister, Hikari."_

"Kirishima Hikari," Kaneki said softly, lowering himself into a chair. "Yomo's older sister."

"Kirishima…?" Nishiki's voice started off slow and confused, and then rose sharply at his sudden realization. " _Kirishima_? Yomo's sister is—?"

"Yes."

"Shit." Nishiki pressed his hand to his mouth and found a place to stare away from Kaneki's face. It was as though he was reassessing the entire year or so he'd spent hanging around Yomo, and Kaneki knew that must be hard. "That… that explains a lot, actually."

"Really?" Kaneki glanced at him curiously. "How so?"

"Man," Nishiki sighed, drawing his hand down his face, "you don't even… like, I've lived with Yomo for a while now. He's not exactly the chattiest dude around, you know? So obviously I do most of the talking."

Kaneki considered this, and he said softly, "You already told him about your sister."

"Right." Nishiki's eyes were dim and sad behind the glow of his glasses. "I always thought it was kinda weird, the way he started treating me after that… like he got really protective, and I was just kinda like, chill man!" Nishiki threw up his hands for emphasis. "I'm an adult! But that guy doesn't care. He saved me once from some doves over in the third ward because he was worried about me. It's just… people don't do that, you know?"

"Do what?" Kaneki smiled faintly. "Care about other people?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you've just had some bad luck, Nishio." Kaneki closed his eyes. "People can be kinder than you expect, if you give them the chance."

"I know, I know." Nishiki collapsed on the couch, his head craning back to stare at the ceiling. "I've never been a real big fan of people. I've never even really been _kind_ in any sort of way. I think I'm kinda selfish. But… people like Yomo— people like _you_ …" He trailed off, his eyes sliding dully to Kaneki's face. "What drives you to keep helping others? This world is such a piece of shit, and… I mean, don't you just want to watch it burn sometimes?"

"It's already burning," Kaneki replied. "I've been watching it burn my whole life. We're all just trying to put the fire out, little by little."

"Right…" Nishiki sighed. "Shit. Yomo is Touka's _uncle_. That's crazy."

"Yeah…" Kaneki didn't think it was that crazy. He knew bits of Yomo's past, and he saw the similarities in Yomo's face and Ayato's. It was a bit uncanny, really, the way Yomo was reflected in his sister's children.

His phone began to buzz, and he stifled a groan. He'd done himself in this time, probably, since he had essentially run out on Mutsuki and Shirazu and had not returned to work. All in all, he was probably fucked.

"Okay, Amon," Kaneki sighed into his receiver, "what's the verdict? Am I a dead man walking for not coming back?"

Nishiki looked at him curiously, but said nothing. His piqued interest caused him to sit up straight and lean forward, likely trying to listen in on the other side of the conversation.

" _What_?" Amon sounded hopelessly confused. As usual when Kaneki joked about his imminent death. " _No, I— No. You're not going to die. Do you think I'd honestly let them…? No._ "

"Do I think you'd let them?" Kaneki closed his eyes. "No. It doesn't make me feel any better though."

Amon did not reply immediately, which was not surprising. It seemed like they had had this conversation a thousand times, and maybe they would have it a thousand more. Their arguments had evolved. No more was the issue of the life of a ghoul being worth something on the table— Touka had seen to that resolution with her existence. Even if that compromise was somewhat unsteady and clearly a hollow victory.

The problem now was that Amon was currently the investigator who had Kaneki in his custody. Which, in the ever-changing language of the CCG, meant that Kaneki was essentially Amon's possession.

Pretty fucked up, right?

Well, they had their good days. There had only been one huge fight, and that had been months ago. Right now it was just understandably awkward between them, but no one else seemed to notice, or if they did they couldn't grasp why.

" _You are technically still my partner,_ " Amon said quietly, " _no matter how you've decided to work your investigations. Right now, Akira and I in the car bound for Cochlea. I want you to come with us._ "

"Why?"

" _What does it matter why_?" Amon sounded truly irritated, a hitch in his voice providing some clue about his discomfort. " _You're my subordinate, and I'm telling you that you are coming. Where are you right now_?"

"Um…" Kaneki glanced around the dingy apartment. Amon always seemed to want to pick him up when he was doing ghoul related things. It was like he had a sixth sense for Kaneki's moral ambiguity. "Let me walk to a gas station. I saw one a few blocks up from where I am, and you can pick me up there. Okay? Are you happy?"

" _No._ "

"Surprise, surprise," Kaneki muttered. "Look, I'll text you the address. Are the kids with you?"

" _They went home, since their shift was technically over. Yours, however, is not._ "

"Thanks for the reminder."

" _Kaneki_ ," Amon said softly. " _This is important. You understand that, don't you? How important our job is?_ "

"Yes, Amon."

He felt like he was speaking to a reprimanding parent. Like Amon was trying to reach out to him somehow, but Kaneki just couldn't understand his foreign adult language.

So he lied and said he understood. It was all he could do, really.

" _Then I'll see you soon_."

He hung up, and Kaneki held his phone tightly in his fist. His adrenaline had spiked suddenly, a bout of rage swooping through him. He had the strangest urge to whip his cellphone at the wall, the itch to watch it shatter almost too strong to ignore. This was nothing new. Kaneki was timid and soft, but he was also vicious and destructive. Nothing really mattered when he was faced with all of these harsh decisions.

"I've got to go," he said. His voice was small, but the icy bite to it did not find its way past Nishiki. The man watched him dully before exhaling sharply through his nose.

"They've got you on a leash, man," he said.

"Yes."

"You should run."

Kaneki stuffed his phone into his pocket, and he drew his fingers over his lips to keep himself from saying something he might regret. All of his anger, all of his sadness— there was no _focus_ to it anymore. He'd had vengeance on the brain last time around, and that had driven him to live and hate and boil himself in his own disgust, but now he was free of that burden. Now he was just trying his goddamn best.

But when you try your best to live, when all you live for is the hope for a better tomorrow, it gets so very weary. Life doesn't change over night.

So you wallow in it.

He shook his head mutely, his hand over his lips, and he turned toward the door.

"Kaneki." Nishiki stood up. When Kaneki turned to face him, he had one hand in his pocket, and the other offered out to him. He stared at it, mildly shocked by the gesture. "Don't get in too deep, kay? Remember who you are."

 _Remember who you are_. That was something he wished someone had told him a thousand years ago.

"Thanks," he murmured, lifting his hand and taking Nishiki's. It wasn't all that strange, was it?

To know that people cared.

He left without another word. He was not going to put anyone he cared about in anymore danger than he already had.

He could feel guilty and angry later. For now, he had a job to do.

* * *

Hearts break every goddamn day.

Ayato thought the real surprise here was that he had one. And it hurt.

Running had seemed like the smartest option— like, who wouldn't bolt after all of that? Ayato hadn't signed up for this! He didn't want to deal with it! If running meant he didn't have to face the reality, the _consequences_ of what he had just overheard, than so fucking be it!

He'd run to the goddamn end of the world.

With no idea how far he'd ran, and no real sense of direction or purpose, the end of the world ended up being somewhere at the edge of the 20th ward. He collapsed on a stoop, his chest heaving, sweat clinging to his brow and hair clinging to his sweat. He lowered his head into his hands, and he listened to the heavy thud of his heart beating inside his ears.

If he prayed, which he never did, he'd pray that someone would make it all stop already.

Too much had changed, and yet nothing had changed at all.

The truth was, he shouldn't be surprised. Yomo Renji had been a weirdly consistent part of their lives as long as Ayato could remember. He hardly ever spoke, but his presence lingered in Ayato's mind, a heavy shadow beside his father, a persistent figure of a long gone childhood. When the world had ended, Yomo had been there. And when the world had started up again, Yomo had been there. And now, when the world had come to a grinding halt—

"Ayato."

Yomo was here. Like fucking clockwork.

He buried his face in his knees.

This was not happening.

If the world could run on silence, Yomo Renji would be the conductor of the whole damn earth.

City sounds were his answer. Beeping cars and foot falls. Ceaseless chatter and white noise.

Yomo tried again.

"Ayato."

When Ayato inhaled, his chest felt tight.

"Leave me alone."

It didn't sound as passionate as it felt.

Cautiously, Yomo lowered himself to the step beside Ayato. If it had been any other evening, any other person, then Ayato would have thrown himself to his feet and marched off. But he found with a dawning horror that he couldn't move.

The silence drew on, a precarious balance of their heavy breaths. When Ayato inhaled, breathy and thin, Yomo exhaled, heavy and short.

"I'm sorry."

Words that Ayato had heard a thousand times. Words that did not matter.

Words were so damn empty.

"So?"

Yomo did not reply. Ayato forced himself to pick up his head and look up sharply at the man. His pale hair framed his solemn face, and his eyes told the story of a man who knew only how to break and be broken.

He opened his mouth, and it lingered open for longer than expected. Without a sound, it stuttered shut.

"So," Ayato said quietly, watching Yomo with a dull gaze, "you're my uncle. And you're _sorry_."

Yomo inhaled sharply through his nose, his nostrils flaring. He clutched a package in his hands. "Ayato—" he began weakly.

"Shut up." Ayato sunk against the steps, lifting his head toward the sky. "I don't wanna hear your damn excuses. I don't want to hear any of it."

Yomo watched him for a moment, his beetle black eyes glued to Ayato's face. And then he looked down at his lap.

"Then I won't make excuses," he said.

Ayato shot him a chilly glance. _Yeah_ , he thought, _okay, sure. What are you even sayin', man?_

"The truth is…" Yomo was no longer looking at him, and instead gazed distantly into the street. A cat had leapt up onto the stoop and perched above them, mewing curiously. "Ayato, I don't have an excuse. I didn't want you to know."

"I gathered."

"Yes…" Yomo blinked as the cat rubbed up against his arm. He raised it hesitantly and allowed the cat to crawl into his lap. Cautiously he set the package between his knee and Ayato's. "No. I'm sorry. I didn't want you— _either_ of you— to know who I was."

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" Ayato asked thickly. His throat was tight, and his chest was tighter, and everything around them was so dark that he felt like he was suffocating in the evening humidity. "Stop apologizing. It— it wasn't like you weren't _there,_ you just weren't…"

"There." Yomo stroked the top of the cat's head absently. "Yeah."

Ayato stared ahead of him blankly. He felt it in him, the horror of what he was doing.

 _This is Touka all over again_ , he realized.

So he swallowed his pride. He swallowed it down, and he took a deep breath.

"Why?" he whispered.

Yomo's eyes lingered on the cat in his lap. His knuckle drew down its tiny head gently.

"I wasn't there when your mother needed me," he said. "I wasn't there when your father needed me. I wasn't there when you needed me. What was I doing? Even now… I'm not sure. I was angry. I was so angry, Ayato— I hope you never have to know that anger."

"I already do," he said coolly.

Yomo turned his face to Ayato's, and there was a coldness that not even Ayato could withstand. His black eyes had become like the unyielding centers of supermassive black holes.

"No," Yomo said. "You don't. Now listen to me, because I won't tell this to you again." He reached out, and took Ayato's shoulder very gently— a touch that did not match his expression nor his tone. "Your sister is older, so she has a bigger burden to bear. In her mind, protecting you is prioritized over almost anything else, and you might resent her for that— you might hate her for things beyond her control, but I will tell you, Ayato, that when all is said and done ten years from now, if she isn't here anymore then you will know that anger because it will destroy you. It becomes you. And then the anger dies, like all things die, and you are left with ashes. You are ash. Do you understand?"

Ayato understood. The hair on his arms stood on end, and in the hazy yellow glow of the street lamp, he saw goosebumps raise.

He said anyway, "Not really."

"I know," Yomo said. His voice was heavy and dull, and his eyes carried so much luggage that bag check had fined him a small fortune. "Do you think I don't know what you— what everyone thinks of me? It's hard. I don't know how to speak to people. She was always the social one, and I… I just let her speak for me. I think I must be pretty hollow now. I wanted revenge, once, but now I can barely work up the drive to speak to you, let alone…"

Yomo's brow furrowed. The cat in his lap peered up at him when he stopped petting it, and it meowed insistently.

This was the most Ayato had ever heard Yomo speak. And it was killing him.

Because he understood. He could relate. Touka and him used to share the load, since they had similar dispositions, but Touka could at least fake being polite to strangers. She'd gotten them out of some sticky situations just by talking. Without her… would Ayato even exist without her?

"You're pathetic," Ayato murmured, "aren't you?"

Yomo lowered his head. The cat leapt from his lap and disappeared into the night.

"My mother…" Even saying the words, he couldn't quite believe it. It was such a foreign phrase. _Mother_. He trailed away into silence as it settled on his tongue, like dust and ash sealing his mouth shut. _You are ash,_ Yomo had said. Ayato's bitter recollection of his last grand argument with Touka, the remnants of Pompeii clinging to his lips, made him rethink his treatment of Yomo. He recognized this. He understood what this man meant. _You are ash_. "Who was she?"

Yomo blinked, his shoulder hunching a bit in true shock. Whatever he'd been expecting, it had not been curiosity.

"Her name was Hikari," Yomo said softly. He paused, and turned his weary eyes to Ayato's face, and Ayato could feel them drinking in his every breath, analyzing his features for a reaction.

"Hikari," Ayato repeated. It was an ironic thing to say. An ironic name to have. He knew it, and yet a great deal of warmth trickled through him.

"I'm not sure how she and your father met," Yomo continued quietly. "I never really asked. She was just with him all of a sudden, and having a baby, and I didn't even know what had happened. I hadn't talked to her for a few months, and all of a sudden I had a brother-in-law and a niece on the way."

Ayato swallowed thickly. This sounded like such a far fetched scenario, and yet he knew all too well that this could be his future.

"How did she die?" Ayato asked vacantly.

Yomo stiffened. He searched Ayato's face before shaking his head sharply. "You don't need to hear that," he said.

"Who killed her?"

"No, Ayato."

He inhaled sharply, his arms around his knees and his eyes searching Yomo's with true and earnest interest. But Yomo would not budge. Between them was a war of gazes, both too willful to look away.

"I want my father back," Ayato said.

And that was it. Yomo closed his eyes and turned away. Ayato had won.

What a hollow victory that was.

"He was… a good man," Yomo said.

"That doesn't make me miss him any less," Ayato whispered, "or make what happened to him any less horrible."

"No. It doesn't."

"What if what happened to him happens to Touka?"

Yomo blinked down at him. There was a flicker of emotion in his eyes, something even Ayato could see, and he realized it was understanding. He nodded slowly in his own form of solidarity.

"I think she's safe for now," Yomo said gently. "Kaneki said that someone very high up is doing everything he can to protect her. I know that doesn't mean much— after everything they've done, you understand that I'm skeptical too— but it's… something."

"Something isn't a guarantee that she's safe," Ayato said, his nails biting into his palms. "Something isn't _good_ enough. What the fuck did she do?" He looked at Yomo pointedly, and he leaned forward. "What did she do to get that briefcase, Yomo?"

Yomo merely looked down at him, sadness brimming in his cold black eyes.

"You'd need to ask Kaneki," he said somberly. "I didn't ask."

Ayato huffed indignantly. " _Why_?"

"I didn't want to know."

"Are you kidding?" Ayato stared at Yomo expectantly, and when he got no reply, he scoffed. "Incredible. Of _course_ you're not kidding. Some fucking uncle you are."

With that, Ayato rose to his feet. He felt whoozy, his stomach tangled up in assorted knots like a survival expert had gone to town on his intestines. His eyesight was mangled, the road ahead of him a strange and insignificant blur of black and white, of road and building, nothing solid reaching him. Even the cement beneath his feet, the two steps he shakily descended, seemed to shiver beneath him. As though the ground wanted nothing more than to open up and swallow him whole.

"I'm not you," Ayato said. His voice came like a breath being torn from his throat, snatched by some disembodied spirit and lingering in the air. "Touka's not our mom. And whatever happens to us _isn't_ your fault. You aren't responsible for our mistakes, okay? Live your own goddamn life, man. Saying you're sorry for what happened isn't gonna bring her back."

He waited for a reply, his shaky hands stuffed into his pockets. When he got none, he stared into the bleak and foggy street, his heart hammering against his ribs, his mouth growing dry and sour from bile that snuck up his throat.

So he walked away.

 _Saying you're sorry for what happened isn't gonna bring her back_.

His own words haunted him, following his unsteady footsteps, circling him madly as he tried to make his way home.

 _I'm not you_.

The anxiety that gripped him, squeezing his stomach into rinds, it made him physically nauseous. He didn't know if he was going the right way. He didn't know what he was doing, where he was going, or if he even cared.

 _You are ash_.

Ashes clung to his dry tongue. Ashes burned his dry eyes. Ashes swarmed this shaky city, blotting out lights and fluttering beneath his feet.

He was not Yomo. But he saw it.

He recognized what he might become if he wasn't careful.

He'd taken Touka for granted. Admitting that… that was the first step, probably.

The first step to becoming a better person?

Maybe.

He found himself shivering in an alley, goosebumps gliding up his arms, heavy summer air causing sweat to cling to the back of his neck in spite of the shudders running through him. He doubled over, dry heaves capturing him, his chest tight and his throat tighter and his eyes glazed as he tried to shake off this inexplicable dread that filled him.

While he spat bile onto the ground, a chill shot through him. He recognized it as a warning sign, but he was too dizzy and too fucked up to care.

He rested his shoulder against a brick wall, and glanced up feebly. In the dim alley, the only light coming in from the shifty streetlamps outside, he saw a small shadow standing suddenly before him.

"Hello, Ayato," Eto said softly. "Let's talk."

* * *

"I am _telling_ you," Chie hissed, "you have to be more careful!"

"I'm careful." He said this through a paintbrush stuck between his teeth. Chie was currently sitting cross-legged beside him on the scaffold, the giant flashlight he and Shirazu shared in her tiny hands. Her short hair was tied up, though many shorter strands fell stubbornly into her round face. She simply stared at him, unimpressed and uninterested in his shitty lies. "I'm sort of careful. I'm more careful than Shirazu."

"Shirazu isn't the Painter, though." Chie shook her head. "Idiot, he just does backgrounds and outlines and lettering. You do the art. You are the artist."

"Shirazu is every bit a part of this as I am," Urie said firmly, plucking the brush from his mouth and dusting a rust colored highlight across the surface of the eye he'd been working on for hours. "Besides, Aogiri is still down from that attack in December."

"You aren't listening. I was there, Urie, I spoke to one of their leaders _and_ Touka."

Urie paused, the bristles of his brush lingering peculiarly around the rim of the iris. His brow furrowed. "Touka," he repeated. He met Chie's cool gaze. "The ghoul that saved us?"

"The very same."

"Did you talk to her?" Urie set the brush aside, dusting his hands off on a rag. He didn't want to dirty up the stranger's shirt he wore any more than he already had. "Ask her why she did it?"

"I mean, yeah, I talked to her, but I'm not you." Chie rolled her eyes. "I don't actually need a reason to believe that ghouls can be decent. Do you have any food in this?" She held up Urie's backpack.

"Um, a breakfast bar and some granola."

"You live such a sad little life." Chie pulled out the breakfast bar and began to unwrap it. "Anyway, Aogiri has its eye on you. Well, the _Painter_. I did what I could to throw them off, since I have no idea what they'd do if they knew you were two human boys."

Urie watched her nibble away at the bar, and he considered her words thoughtfully. If Aogiri really was interested in the Painter, then Shirazu was in more trouble than he was. Shirazu was CCG. Urie may be more human, but he had no actual involvement in the organization outside his father. If he was caught, it could be chalked up to teenage rebellion. Or if he was caught by Aogiri, he'd just be killed outright. But if Shirazu was caught by either organization, it was likely he'd just be imprisoned and tortured by both. That was an unsightly thought.

"Maybe you shouldn't blog about it anymore," Urie suggested.

"No can do," Chie quipped, her mouth full and her words muffled. "Been enlisted by Aogiri to represent ghouls through the murals. Kinda a cool gig, in my opinion. Even if it's _pro bono_."

"Really?" Urie rolled his eyes. "I feel like you have no real definition of morality, Chie."

"Come on, man," Chie said brightly, her eyes sparkling in the beam of the flashlight. "Like you're any different."

"I am."

"Keep telling yourself that."

And with that, she took a picture of him. Urie was startled, as he always was when she took a snapshot unexpectedly. She was a strange companion to have, one that had utterly baffled his father ("Where on earth did you find a photographer like that?"). But he enjoyed her company, possibly because of her ability to take anything as it came, or maybe because he'd never been friends with someone artsy before. Before Shirazu, most people he wasted his time with were very stringent and business-like. People he thought his father might approve of.

Shirazu and Chie were a completely different species. A species, Urie found, that he very much liked.

"You know why I'm doing this." Urie looked up at his painting, noting all the points that he was unhappy with but recognizing that he would have to leave it as it was if he didn't want to get caught. "You know why I care."

"You mean this isn't some funny teen rebellion for the child of a Special Class Investigator?" Chie asked innocently.

Urie scowled. He turned away from her sharply. "I'm not an investigator," he said stiffly. "I don't know if I ever will be— if I even _want_ that. If this really is just some fucked up form of teen rebellion, then fine. I'll fucking rebel."

"Strong words." Chie smiled gently. "Been hanging around Shirazu a bit too much, you think?"

"Any extended period around Shirazu is "a bit too much," in my opinion."

"There's my boy," Chie laughed, patting Urie on the cheek. He winced and drew back from her.

"Stop," he muttered, his face growing warm.

Chie watched him, and her eyes softened. "You know," she said, hugging the flashlight to her chest, "maybe you should stop this. For a little while, at least."

"What?" Urie found, shockingly, that her words deeply disturbed him. He didn't want to stop. That genuinely alarmed him. "I— no. What we're doing, it's a good thing. I don't think so."

"It'll be safer for you." Chie raised her large amber eyes to his, and she lowered her chin to her chest. "You know what you're risking here, Urie. You know what could happen if you're caught. And you got your message across! So why are you still doing this?"

Urie shook his head. He was thinking fast, excuses tumbling in his mind, words filling up his mouth and then draining before he could get them out. So he shook his head again.

"No," he said, responding to a question she had not asked. "No, I— No."

"No _what_?"

"No," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and scraping rust-colored paint across the bags beneath his eyes. "I don't know, I— I like doing it. I like making art."

"You can make art without risking your life for it," Chie said quietly.

" _You're_ not one to talk," Urie said in a low but heated tone. "You almost get eaten on the daily, Chie. Don't tell me what I'm doing is dangerous when you bargain with ghouls all the time."

"I only do deals with ghouls who I know won't kill me for fun." Chie frowned deeply, and she pushed the giant flashlight aside. "Urie, I've been doing this for years. I know I don't smell appetizing to ghouls, which is why I can do what I do. But you almost got yourself killed trying to follow me, remember? Don't use me as a role model, it'll get you killed."

"Who said anything about you being a role model?" Urie scoffed. He found his face felt warm again, and he hated himself deeply and truly for it. He wanted Chie's approval, and it was killing him. He was just trading in his hero worship from his father to his friend, and that wasn't going to get him anywhere. He knew it, he knew it, but _still_ he was trapping himself in the same patterns that had left him so vacant before.

"Will you just listen?"

"I'm tired." Urie started to pack up his paints, spray paints, brushes, water, and rag. "I'm going home."

"That's fine," Chie said, blinking at him. "But this conversation isn't over."

"Listen to you!" Urie stuffed the rag into his bag and snatched the flashlight from her. "You sound like my _mother_. Who the hell do you think you are, Chie? You can't tell me what I can and can't do with my time."

"I'm not telling you to do anything, I'm just suggesting—"

"No." Urie zipped up his backpack violently, his eyes flashing toward her face in a fierce and icy glare. "You're making demands that I don't want to fulfill. Fuck your _suggestions_ , Chie. I'll stop doing murals when you stop blackmailing humans and ghouls alike for a quick buck."

Chie didn't respond. Not when he threw the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, not when he climbed down from the scaffold, and not when he marched out of the alley and left her in the dust.

Who was she to make decisions for him, anyway?

Yes, he knew it was ridiculous, that he was being ridiculous, but he was too angry to care. He'd lived half his life living in someone else's shadow, imagining only a future where he would climb the ranks of the CCG and make his father proud. That future seemed so hazy and obsolete now. Ever since he'd started this, he'd grown to realize that he couldn't have that future if he had some alter ego festering in a filing cabinet at the very place he'd tried to excel at.

He couldn't be a ghoul. He couldn't be an investigator. Yet he was caught in some strange in-between, and it was stifling him.

If this was all just some weirdo quest to find himself, he was going to be pissed when he realized he was just a human after all.

Anyway, he was too self-aware for all this crap. He knew what he was doing, he knew how dangerous it was, but he was doing it anyway. Why?

He liked danger. He liked proving he could handle things. He liked showing himself that he was capable of new depths.

And danger always had a way of finding him, one way or another.

He heard the arguing halfway down the road. He was made of unhealthy curiosity, so he took a detour and found himself in an alley, crouching behind a garbage can as he watched the boy he'd given his shirt to begin marching his way.

"It's useless. I'm _useless_. I don't care anymore, Eto, okay? Just leave me alone."

"That doesn't sound like you." A chilling little voice, like a child or a young woman hissing, spoke to him tenderly. "I know you, Ayato. I know you like a good challenge."

"You aren't listening." Ayato sounded miserable and sick, his voice muddy and strained. "I'm _done_. I can't fight, and you coming here makes it all worse!"

"You think working in a third-rate coffee shop," Eto said coolly, "squandering all your potential is going to make you happy? What are you doing, boy? What are you going to do? Live your life a toothless lion, declawed and made to sleep your life away— or will you break through your bars and stain your mouth with blood as you were meant to?"

It was about here that Urie realized he'd made yet another classic mistake. He had about three Q bullets in the gun he'd stolen from his father. He was a decent shot, but what if he missed? And he was too close to the boy, Ayato, to move out of the alley. Not to mention the sound of the other ghoul was terrifying enough to glue Urie into one place.

Ayato was very quiet, like he was considering her words. That was scary too. Urie thought about how he had helped him earlier, how by switching shirts Ayato had probably saved Urie from getting caught right now.

"Where is Touka?" Ayato said suddenly.

Urie inhaled sharply at the name _Touka_. It wasn't a loud sound by any means, but he knew immediately that the sound had given him away. The garbage can he'd been crouching behind was torn away, picked up and thrown effortlessly by Ayato. He was a strangely slender shadow, smaller than Urie and more like an androgynous silhouette than anything else. The whites of his eyes flashed, likely going wide in recognition as they eyed each other down for the second time that day.

Urie leapt to his feet and swung his backpack around like an ancient slingshot, whirling it around his head and smashing it into the side of Ayato's face. The boy went stumbling, crashing unceremoniously into the ground and gasping in shock and pain. The giant flashlight had done a remarkable job in weighing down the backpack, as Urie knew from the months he'd been lugging it around.

As he whirled around, attempting to run away, but something had snagged on his jeans and forced him to stumble. He caught his footing and immediately whirled around, whipping his backpack with him. The eerie figure, Eto, merely ducked and snatched the bag away, tossing it to the ground. Momentarily stunned, but not enough to lose momentum, Urie jumped back. He kicked at her, his foot slamming into both her arms which had come up into a cross-block. He stepped back again, swinging his leg around and watching his heel crash into the side of her head. She stumbled, and in that moment he thought he was free.

And then he realized that there was some kind of snake-like substance coiling around his arms.

 _This is it,_ Urie thought, stunned. _I'm going to lose both my arms and bleed to death. This is how I'm going to die. And you know what? It's basically my fault anyway. I really fucked myself this time, huh?_

"Shit," Ayato hissed, rubbing his face irritably as he came up beside Eto. "What's is that, a bag of fucking bricks?"

"Funny," Eto said, her tiny, bandaged feet stepping closer to Urie. He felt the urge to squirm, but knew better than to struggle against a ghouls kagune. "I didn't smell him at all. Did you, Ayato?"

Ayato was very quiet. Their eyes met, and reflected each other, mirror images of absolute terror.

"No," Ayato said quietly.

Eto's feet padded softly against the asphalt, and as she grew closer Urie heard his own breathing become erratic, his heartbeat stuttering madly. Her slim, bandaged fingers brush over his chin, gliding against his mouth and stroking his cheek. His breath hitched painfully in his throat as he tried to follow her path with his eyes. But she had slipped behind him.

The kagune had disintegrated, but before he could move he felt a pair of small arms snake beneath his, her tiny fingers closing around his throat.

"Oh, will you look at that?" she cooed, kicking the backs of his legs and knocking him down to his knees. She was so small that he was at her chin now. Her fingers still clung to his throat, and her eerie, mummified face came dangerously close to his ear. "He smells like _you,_ Ayato."

Though Urie could not see the boy's face, he could hear the boy's uneasy voice. "Does he?"

He squirmed a bit when he felt her hand slip into his pocket, and he held his breath as her salient laugh tingled against his cheek. She withdrew his gun and dangled it in front of his face.

"My, my," she breathed. "You've been a busy boy, haven't you?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. He could barely breathe, he could hardly see, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat thudding miserably in his ears.

 _The best part is,_ he thought, _I'm not even going to die because the stupid murals, like Chie thought. I'm just going to die because I don't think before I do things._

His dad was going to be so disappointed in him when they found his body. All evidence showing he's a ghoul sympathizer who was killed by ghouls.

A gunshot went off, startling him so badly that he thought his heart had stopped. His eyes snapped open, his breath caught in his throat, and there was an immense amount of pressure on the back of his calf.

He realized, as the pain hit him all at once, that he'd been _shot_.

"No," he gasped faintly, "what…?"

And then he was screaming, the pain of it washing over him. He would have tipped over, his head pounding viciously in time with the blow to his leg and the hammering of his heart, if not for Eto holding him in place.

"Oh," Eto was saying, her voice in some sort of bubble far away from where Urie was, "so that works…"

 _Stop screaming,_ he told himself, chomping down on his tongue and listening to the screams die into small whimpers, _I'm going to die with some goddamn dignity, so help me!_

"Looks like Q bullets," Eto said. "Catch, Ayato."

The gun flew over Urie's head, and he watched through a watery gaze, sweat beading upon his brow, as Ayato caught it. He looked down at it, and up at Urie, as though he had no idea what to do.

"What the hell do you want me to do with this?" Ayato asked faintly.

"You were _just_ complaining that you're useless," Eto said in a breathy little voice. She tipped Urie's head gingerly from side to side like he was a doll. "That you can't fight. Well, there's your power, Ayato. A CCG issued gun. This boy's probably the son of a dove. How does that make you feel?"

The words were humming in his head. He decided he regretted what he had said to Chie. Maybe he shouldn't have been doing those murals.

Regretting something that makes you feel good is probably some sort of tragedy, huh?

No more a tragedy than him getting gunned down in an alley by the boy who had tried to help him earlier that day.

"A dove…" Ayato said distantly.

Urie raised his eyes, his breath short and ragged, and he stared at Ayato dimly. The boy had raised the gun, holding it loosely in both hands, holding it with the assurance of someone who had killed before and would not flinch if he had to do it again.

Eto let go of him and stepped back. Urie nearly collapsed on his hands, but he forced himself to stare into Ayato's eyes, tears of pain obscuring his vision.

"Who are you?" Ayato asked. "Why are you…?"

He didn't finish the sentence, but Urie understood what he was asking. Why did he paint the murals for ghouls when he was human, and the son of an investigator at that?

He couldn't even reply. If he tried to speak, he'd probably just burst into tears.

So he stared Ayato in the eye.

Ayato's expression twisted angrily, and he stepped forward, pressing the barrel of the gun to Urie's forehead viciously.

" _Why_?" he gasped. "Answer me!"

Urie exhaled. The pain was blinding, and it was becoming too much to think properly.

"I don't know…" He didn't really hear his own voice. It escaped his mouth and fell upwards. "I guess… who doesn't want to change the world?"

The barrel was cool against his sweaty forehead.

Urie closed his eyes. And he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merula, merulae.  
> blackbird.


	42. conclamito

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, it's been a little while. once again, school is the issue, though i have been able to write a bit more during the week lately. that will change soon lmao.. the end of the semester is approaching so i can't imagine i'll be in a place where chapters will be flying out weekly again. i'm trying though.
> 
> in other news i wrote a fic for star wars which was fun! i'm going to try to write more.
> 
> oh, and for everyone who is like "why did you stop reading the manga?? it's getting really good!"
> 
> the reason is that i cannot personally stomach what happened with mutsuki's character and personally all the spoilers i've read up until very recently have been underwhelming. i'm just trying to finish this story. tokyo ghoul isn't going to win me back unless touka somehow magically becomes the main character or something lmao. if you want to know more, please shoot me an ask on my tumblr. 
> 
> but the story goes on! enjoy.

"This better be good, Amon," Kaneki said, climbing into the back seat of the man's car. Amon simply sighed and pulled away from the curb.

"Buckle up, Kaneki," he said.

Whatever this was about, it clearly had Amon uncomfortable. There was no other explanation for him calling Kaneki in, an unneeded addition to a Cochlea interrogation when Mado Akira was in the front seat. So he had to assume that whatever was troubling Amon was something that made him personally very uneasy. He probably wanted someone he'd known for a little longer than a week to accompany him.

Akira turned her head toward him curiously. "Hello again," she greeted. "Looks like we're finally working together."

"Yeah. Looks like."

"This shouldn't be a difficult task," she said, resting her cheek against the shoulder of the chair. "It won't take us long, if you're worried about that."

Kaneki didn't want to admit to her that he was a little concerned about the kids at home. Shirazu was pretty good at scrounging up food when no one was around to cook for him, but also he might end up sneaking out. Considering the crackdown on the Painter as of late, Kaneki didn't feel comfortable with him going out without a mask.

"It's okay," Kaneki lied, smiling at her easily. "I wasn't really doing anything important."

Amon eyed him suspiciously, their eyes meeting in the rearview mirror. Kaneki sunk into his seat. He was already wary of this whole situation, and he really just needed Amon to not question him about what he'd been doing all day.

"Have you found anything on the Yasuhisa case?" Amon asked him.

Kaneki found himself relaxing a bit. "Ah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I still maintain that the Ghoul Restaurant is in league with Dr. Kanou, but I haven't had a lead since the last one."

Akira peered back at him. "And where did this theory come from?" she asked.

Of course Kaneki couldn't say that he _knew_ Kanou was experimenting on people and giving patrons of the Ghoul Restaurant first picks of his mistakes. The longer he played this game, the harder it was to come up with excuses for _knowing_ things. Like, one of these days he was just going to snap and tell someone he was from the future.

Not that they'd believe him, of course.

"As you know," Kaneki said cautiously, "Kanou was the one who made me a half-ghoul."

"Yes." Akira looked mildly amused. "I think we all know about that."

"I have reason to believe he's been conducting experiments to try and recreate what he did to me," Kaneki explained, "and when he fails he offers those failures to the ghoul restaurant to be Scrappers."

"That is some hunch," she remarked. She didn't seem to judge him, though, and instead watched him with great interest. "If it's true, you know we'll have a bit more on our hands than just a rogue doctor."

"Yes…" Kaneki thought that they already did, but he didn't want to say anything. Touka's involvement in the CCG thus far had been kept to a fading rumor, and there weren't that many ghouls terrorizing the 20th ward nowadays. Mostly they were concerned with Gourmet and the Painter, neither of whom were going to be turned in on Kaneki's watch.

He wasn't sure what to make of Mado Akira. She was certainly friendly— nothing like her father in that respect, with an ability to talk pleasantly on any range of topics with proficiency. It was like she'd programmed herself to be perfectly amiable and perfectly witty and perfectly able to drop into a viciously analytical state at a moment's notice. He'd watched her debrief older investigators, one upping just about everyone in the room without so much as lifting a well-groomed eyebrow.

She was _nice_. She didn't even seem to be trying either. She just seemed like the type of person who was naturally drawn to other people. Albeit she could be strange and awkward, but who wasn't?

If Kaneki had to be honest, he'd rather be alone with her than with Amon.

As they neared Cochlea, Akira continued talking to him casually. The topic changed from work related things to what Kaneki did in his spare time, which surprised him.

"Oh, so you dropped out of school to join the CCG?" She unbuckled her seatbelt as Amon parked. "That must have been a difficult decision."

"I don't think my academic career was going to survive my transformation anyway," Kaneki laughed uneasily. "It's probably better that I quit before my grades had a chance to tank."

"Were you planning on teaching with your degree?" As Akira spoke, Amon shut off the car and glanced between them with a frown.

It had been awhile since anyone had inquired about his dreams with such interest, so he found himself unable to stop the conversation from developing. He didn't really want it to end.

"I think so," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, maybe. Doing lectures and stuff while maybe writing on the side. That would be nice."

"It does sound nice." Akira's eyes softened. "Are you in the right place, Kaneki?"

He raised his eyes to hers, turning those words over in his head. Was he in the right place? What a thing to ask! Like he had a choice in anything he did. It suggested that he could, at any point, leave his current position and go off to follow his dreams. Travel the world or lecture at a university. Start a family, or even maybe just make amends.

That was all so impossible. If Akira didn't know that now, she would soon.

"I'm in the place I'm meant to be in," he said firmly. He caught Amon's gaze in the rearview mirror once more, and he found himself staring. Did he even realize? Could he even grasp his situation, or even comprehend _why_ he felt the way he did?

Kaneki suspected that even after all these months, Amon still could not see it Kaneki's way.

Amon broke eye contact first, ducking out of the car and slamming it shut. Both Akira and Kaneki watched after him with widening eyes. When they glanced at each other, Kaneki found himself pitying her. She was caught in the middle of something that she had no reason to be involved in, and it would probably hurt her. In the end.

"You both seem rather tense," Akira said softly.

Kaneki closed his eyes. Tense. Right, that was one word for it.

He slipped out of the car quietly, unable to scrounge up a decent reply for her. The air was warm and sticky, no evening breeze to speak of. The parking lot was nearly deserted but for a few cars at the far end, great boxy shadows beneath the dim streetlamps. The hazy yellow glow shifted the lot into a realm of in-between, where twilight played tricks with the eyes, and made the hazy gray sky seem like an iron slate above their heads.

It was becoming clear that Amon was unwell. Uncomfortable or just plain ill, it was hard to say. He made his way into the facility quietly, never providing an explanation, never meeting Kaneki's eye again. Akira went with it in a stride, her head high and her expression clear. Kaneki was having more difficulty hiding his uncertainty.

After all, being here again was filling him with an inordinate amount of dread. Pure dread. He could not shake the sensation that he was going to be shackled and strung up, beaten and mocked, and then without much further ado, executed without mercy.

To be honest, he wanted to run away. His hands where shaking so badly that he had to stuff them into his pockets to hide how uneasy he was. He heard his own footsteps echoing off the walls of the long hall, and he swallowed hard.

Make no mistake. Kaneki Ken was no stranger to fear. No stranger to anxiety. No stranger to death, it seemed, either.

But right now, he was overwhelmed by the invasive thought, _I am going to die here_.

There was no explanation, nothing but the severe memory of his imprisonment in these very walls. And even then, he couldn't quite grasp _why_ it affected him so violently. It wasn't as though he'd been through any hell here worse than that of Aogiri, than that of _Rize_ or _Tsukiyama_ — hell, even _Nishiki_ had done worse.

But something here made his insides twist and squirm, and that was enough for him. His heart thundered in his chest, and his mind began to drum. _I am going to die here. Die here. Die, die, die._

It seemed like Akira was the only one who wasn't on the verge of a full on panic attack.

They were led to a dark visiting room with a hefty glass wall. Kaneki shuddered as he recollected his time in a room very similar to this.

"Been awhile," Kaneki said bitterly, "huh, Amon?"

Amon said nothing. He didn't even look at him. But his shoulders did stiffen a bit, a sign that he was, in fact, affected by Kaneki's words.

Akira eyed him, her casual attitude long retired. Her back was pin-straight, her shoulders back, and her chin held high. Her gaze was somewhat eerie when she was like this, like she was taking his thoughts from the very way he held himself, and turning it into useful information. Yes. It seemed like she was reading his mind.

"I have some interrogation questions prepared," she said, reaching for her bag, "if you want to share."

Kaneki was so used to being ordered around, he'd forgotten for a moment that they were the same rank. They were essentially partners.

"That'd be nice," he said with a genuine smile. That smile dropped when the door on the other side of the glass opened, and a man in familiar white scrubs shuffled into the room. The telltale rattle of shackles filled the air, and Kaneki swore they all held their breath as the chains jingled closer and closer.

"Oh my," a rather raspy, weathered voice said, "look who's here. It's been awhile hasn't it?"

Bare feet clapped against the cement floor. Kaneki watched Amon, watched his reaction… and he found nothing. He found that the man had closed himself off from reacting visibly to the ghoul's entrance. His shoulders were squared, his eyes were straight ahead, and he looked as composed and cold as a cardboard cutout.

Kaneki frowned. Just a few minutes ago, Amon had been visibly uncomfortable, his hands clenching and unclenching rapidly, his eyes flitting around the circular compound restlessly, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. He had been downright erratic. Now he was so calm and collected, it seemed impossible to connect him to the man in the corridor.

Akira, however, seemed to have gone the opposite way. Her composure had slipped, and she seemed to lower her head a bit in defense. Her eyes were narrowed, and she glanced back at him, her arm lifting as though to bar him from moving any closer. Did she not realize that he was a ghoul? No, of course she knew that. He knew she knew that. So why was she… acting protective?

 _I'm much younger than her_ , he reminded himself, _and I look young too, don't I? She must look at me and see a child. A ghoul child, maybe, but a child nonetheless. Weird. It's like how Amon treated me in the beginning, but she's already accepted I'm a ghoul… I don't really get it._

He was broken out of his thoughts by the ghoul's soft, tender words.

"Koutarou… my beloved son."

Kaneki's eyes widened sharply, feeling the words fall upon him like an armful of bricks. He was rendered speechless, his eyes flashing to Amon's face to try to gauge his reaction, to get a confirmation, to _grasp_ what he had just heard.

But Amon was expressionless.

"It's been awhile, Koutarou," the man said, shuffling closer to the glass. "It wouldn't hurt to see your father every now and again, you know."

Kaneki's eyes darted between Amon and Akira, but Amon simply stared straight ahead while Akira's back prevented him from seeing her face.

It was quiet. The sound of his own raging heartbeat was enough to echo around the whole room. Kaneki realized that Akira's eyes were glued to Amon's face as well, her own shock vivid on her face.

"Shut up," Amon said, his voice half a growl. "Like I'd think of you as my father."

The old man's eyes fluttered closed, his wizened face falling. "Oh… such an ungrateful child…" He exhaled sharply through his nose, a sound that seemed to resonate even through glass. His eyes snapped open. Kaneki stepped closer toward Akira. He felt uneasy around this man. "Congratulations. You got promoted, didn't you?"

Amon did not reply, but Kaneki saw the brief flicker of bemusement that crossed his face. If this ghoul was worth his salt, he would have noticed it too. _I see now, Amon,_ Kaneki thought dimly, _why you were schooling your expression. This man… he knows you. He knows your emotions. He…_

Kaneki felt sick.

"That death god partner of yours, what happened to him?" The man's eyes flitted curiously toward Kaneki and Akira. Akira frowned deeply, and Kaneki felt the urge to pat her shoulder. He didn't.

Amon's voice was cool when he replied. "I don't have to answer you."

It seemed so matter-of-fact. A sort of in-your-face reply, a child who had the high ground for once in their life and needed to flaunt it. It was the wrong thing to say, and the wrong way to say it.

"I see," the man said, "so he's dead."

Amon stiffened. His head lowered, and Kaneki saw his face in the reflection of the glass. His expression had twisted into a ferocious glower.

The man suddenly burst into bright, uncontrollable laughter. Akira exhaled sharply, and she folded her arms across her chest. She seemed impatient. Kaneki understood. He wanted this to be over too.

"Well, it's as easy to rile you up as ever!" The man opened his arms as though to accept a long awaited hug. "So what business do you have with me today?"

"I have a few questions for you," Amon said. His expression had loosened considerably, and he had composed himself once more. "All you need to do is answer them."

"I have no problem answering a few questions from you, but…" The man's eyes fell upon Kaneki and Akira. He jerked his chin at them, an obvious hint.

Akira's eyes raised to Amon's. "I'm sure you know this… but two or more investigators need to be present when interrogating a ghoul."

"I didn't know that," Kaneki said faintly. Then, cheekily, he said, "I don't think that rule applies to Amon."

"Enough, Kaneki."

"Should we wait outside?" Akira asked, her fingers resting gingerly on Kaneki's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Wait a moment." It was the old ghoul who had spoken as Kaneki and Akira had turned away. "The boy can stay."

Kaneki blinked rapidly, and he shared a look with Akira. Confusion passed between them, and worry. He gave her a curt nod, and she frowned before nodding back. She left the room quietly.

Kaneki returned to Amon's side, albeit hesitantly. Without Akira, the atmosphere in the room had thickened considerably. Which was saying a lot.

"I think it very odd," the man said, "that you have a ghoul as a subordinate, Koutarou."

Amon inhaled sharply. "Wait outside, Kaneki."

"But— Amon, you _made_ me come here!"

"Don't be childish," Amon huffed. "Go wait with Akira."

Kaneki stood obstinate, his hands clenching into fists at his side. "No," he said firmly.

"Kaneki."

" _No_." When he considered all that had happened until now, all the strange behavior and lack of explanations, he realized it had culminated in this moment. Amon's father, or father figure, or _whatever_ , clearly affecting him negatively, and Amon asking Kaneki for help. It was the only explanation. Akira would have sufficed, but Amon had intentionally reached out to Kaneki for support.

Amon _needed_ him.

"Let the boy be, Koutarou," the old man said. "He looks old enough to make his own decisions. What decisions _are_ you making, boy?"

"Don't answer that," Amon snapped. Kaneki found himself frowning, biting back a snide response. "Porpora, you will not ask him anything else, you understand me?"

"My, my." Porpora tilted his head curiously. "That's quite the protective streak you have there. You know what that boy is, don't you, Koutarou?"

"No more. Kaneki, leave."

"Like I said," Kaneki sighed, "I'm not leaving—"

"That was an _order_ , Kaneki!"

Now, it was within reason that Amon could order him around. He was Kaneki's commanding officer, after all. Really, he had every right to tell Kaneki to wait outside.

But Kaneki was, frankly, not in the mood to be bossed around by Amon.

"And what will you do if I don't?" Kaneki asked coolly.

Amon's eyes flashed to his dangerously. He shook his head very, very slowly. "Not now," he breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We are not having this discussion now. Wait with Akira."

"I'm sorry if it's a little inconvenient for you, but I'd like an answer." Kaneki was seething. He was so furious that Amon had put him in this position, that Amon had acted like he had needed Kaneki but the second it became a liability to have him around, Kaneki was banished. This was _exactly_ the type of shit that had started this whole thing in the first place!

"I ordered you, Kaneki. I'm your commanding officer."

"A little bit more than that, aren't you?"

" _Enough_!" Amon snatched Kaneki by the collar and dragged him toward the door. Kaneki didn't fight it, mostly because he was shocked by Amon's display of assertion against Kaneki.

Amon might own him, but he'd never used physicality against Kaneki before. _That_ was scary.

Kaneki stumbled as Amon shoved him out the door and slammed it shut. He bumped right into Akira, who had been reading a file. The papers spilled onto the floor, and they both fell against the railing from the force.

"What…?" Akira gasped, untangling one of her arms and pushing her pale hair from her eyes. "What just happened?"

Kaneki swallowed hard, his whole body shaking in rage and guilt and disgust. "Shit," he muttered, letting himself fall to the floor. His knees buckled pitifully. It wasn't that he hated Amon on any level for what his role was in the CCG. Maybe if he hated Amon it would hurt less that he'd been played for a fool for so long.

The truth was, he really did care about Amon. He deeply cared about this man who legally owned him, and that scared the hell out of him. How do you reconcile with that? With loving your keeper?

He couldn't compare it to slavery. Not quite. Amon had never made him do anything, and Kaneki was in fact paid for his labor. But that didn't mean he wasn't owned.

"Hey." Akira seemed hesitant as she rested her hand on his head. "There, there… whatever Porpora said, I wouldn't take it personally. It seems like he'll say just about anything to rile Amon up."

Kaneki, who had not realized he was crying until Akira had pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping his face, laughed scornfully. It was a broken sound. "It wasn't Porpora," he said bitterly.

Akira paused, her handkerchief held gingerly beneath his eye. She began wiping his tears again. Kaneki was shocked as she patted his head and crumpled the handkerchief into his palm.

"He doesn't like that you're a ghoul," she remarked, "does he?"

Without waiting for a reply, she pulled away from him and sat beside him for a moment. Kaneki stared at her, bewildered. It wasn't exactly what this was about, but it was a close enough estimation, and certainly part of the problem.

"Is it obvious?" Kaneki asked weakly. His voice was thick with tears.

Akira closed her eyes. She offered a small shrug. "I guess not immediately, no," she said. "He's very fond of you. Anyone can see that."

"Ha. I can sense the "but" there."

Akira smiled, and she glanced down at him. "But," she said softly, "he clearly hates ghouls. And you are a ghoul."

"Yes."

"That would put a damper on any relationship."

"You don't seem to mind much."

Akira blinked rapidly, and she laughed. "Oh," she said, tossing her hair gently behind her ear, "well I guess it's just that I know you're not foolish enough to attack me, and even if you were I'd kill you."

Kaneki blinked rapidly. Shockingly, these words were not nearly as upsetting as just being in the same room as Amon. So he laughed too.

"Encouraging," he said. Akira smiled. "I know you're not joking, either. That's kinda cool. Um, do you think you're actually strong enough, though? To kill me?"

"You're an S rated ghoul at best, Kaneki," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "You'd be dead rather quickly, I'm afraid."

"Remember me fondly."

"Oh, I will. You are definitely the nicest ghoul _I've_ ever met." She stood up and moved toward the file she'd been perusing, gathering it carefully. Kaneki went to help her, and realized that he had stopped crying. _She's good. Scary, but good._

"Does it change your opinion of ghouls?" Kaneki asked.

"Being around you?" Akira didn't look at him. She focused on getting her pages right. "Not really. Ghouls are still monsters. No offense."

"Some taken."

"I guess you are a monster too," she said, a thoughtless kind of remark, one that someone like Suzuya might make offhand. "But… you're a different kind of monster than that thing in there. Even I can recognize that."

"What _is_ that guy's deal?" Kaneki handed her the last of the papers. "Is he really Amon's father?"

"I'm not entirely sure of the details," Akira said slowly, "but… well, it's all in here." She flipped open the file. "Porpora Donato, an SS rated Russian ghoul. His tastes are mainly targeted toward children, and the methods he used while eating them were exceptionally brutal. He ran a Catholic orphanage here in Japan, and his alias is 'Father.'"

Kaneki watched her slip the file back into her bag while he reeled on this information. A Catholic orphanage. Suddenly Amon's struggle with his faith came into light, a beacon blazing upon all the distrust and disgust that had been kicked up upon Porpora's arrest. And the fact that his interests were in children… Kaneki wasn't a child, but he had _just_ been thinking about how he looked rather young and naïve to onlookers. And Amon certainly thought of him as some young and impressionable kid that needed guidance.

It made sense now, why Amon had wanted him out of the room. Even if he was a ghoul, it was likely that Amon had been… having bad flashbacks. Maybe he had sensed something in Porpora that Kaneki had not. And even Kaneki had felt uneasy around the man, and maybe even a little frightened.

It made sense, but he didn't want to admit that he was wrong.

Because he wasn't wrong to be angry with Amon, right? The man had kept his ownership of Kaneki a secret for months. He'd found out from _Washuu_ in an offhanded remark. He hadn't even gotten a choice like Touka had. He was just someone's property now, and he had to deal with that.

"What is he even questioning that guy about, anyway?" Kaneki tried to bury the nausea he felt down deep. "Nothing's happened around here, and I'm guessing Porpora's been in here for a long time, right? What could he know?"

"Porpora's insight into how other ghouls operate is the reason he's still alive," Akira said simply. "We're questioning him about the Aogiri attack on that transportation truck, and the Ghoul Restaurant. Plus your Dr. Kanou."

"Oh," Kaneki said. "That's a lot, isn't it? He'll probably be in there for a while—"

The door burst open and Amon marched out. There was no triumph to his step, or anger as he brushed past them and stalked down the swerving corridor. They both stared at him, a little stunned by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Ah." Akira cast a disappointed glance around the corridor. "I was going to look around for some more quinque materials."

Kaneki shot her a stunned look. He took a careful step aside from her, noting the odd glint in her eye. For a little while he'd actually forgotten that this was Mado Kureo's daughter.

"Let's go." Amon didn't look at them as he marched down the hall. Kaneki felt that he had effectively wasted his time in coming here, and that he would piss Amon off even more if he pointed that out. So they followed him without a word.

Kaneki held no illusions about what had transpired here. It had been a series of very uncomfortable conversations and even more uncomfortable revelations. Nothing could be helped. They were in the same place they were before.

"So did you end up getting any information?" Akira asked. She didn't step on eggshells with Amon, which was something Kaneki really admired. He was pretty sure that was just part of her personality, though.

"Nothing outstanding," Amon said. The streetlamps streaked across the windshield as Amon turned onto a highway.

"I see."

Kaneki closed his eyes and tried to forget the fight they'd had. He tried to forget the reason they were fighting in the first place. Wouldn't it be easier if he could completely forget that this man owned him?

Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy as willing oneself to forget. And to be true, he didn't want to forget. He was pissed that he had to work under this condition, that he had to exist as someone's pawn, someone's tool, someone's weapon. Especially when that someone was his friend.

"I'm going to drop you off at home, Kaneki."

"Okay."

Amon glanced at him in the mirror. Kaneki simply turned his face away.

As the car sped on, lights flashing in Kaneki's eyes, he thought about how Mutsuki and Shirazu were fairing. Mutsuki, who was lifting himself up by the bootstraps, determined not to let the trauma hold him back. Shirazu, who was attempting to start a social movement with nothing but sheer will and the ability to befriend the right people. Kaneki was so proud of them.

And, by extension, he was disappointed in himself.

 _I am owned_. It was a thought that toiled within him, halting all his progress, creating a sort of nexus of bad feelings that could not disperse. _I am owned, and no one will free me. I did this to myself._

Tears burned his eyes, regret making its ugly face known in the pit of his heart. Returning home like this, with his emotions bare and his rage clear… it would not go down well with the kids. They would be worried. They would ask questions. And they had no idea that Amon and Kaneki were fighting.

"Wait," Kaneki said. "Drop me off here."

"What?" Amon shot him a chilly glance. "Absolutely not. I'm taking you home."

"I can go where I want."

"No," Amon said, "you can't."

Kaneki exhaled sharply, and he felt the impudent urge to kick the back of Amon's seat. "Let me out," Kaneki said stubbornly. He unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Put that back on," Amon said firmly. "You are going home, you understand me? You're too emotional to be on the street right now."

"Oh really?" Kaneki scowled, watching the tall buildings shoot past the window, neon lights blurring in his eyes. " _I'm_ too emotional. Fine."

Kaneki opened the door, a gust of air nearly blowing him back, and as Amon shouted in distress, the car swerving slightly, he jumped out.

Not to be overdramatic, but jumping out of a moving car had been the best decision Kaneki had made all day.

It hadn't hurt much, though he'd scared a ton of people by rolling rather uncomfortably at breakneck speed into oncoming traffic. When he'd picked himself up and dusted himself off— that had seemed to scare them even more. He blew some hair out of his eyes, stepped up onto the sidewalk, and began the short trek toward Hide's apartment.

"Hello," Kaneki said, letting himself into the apartment without much further ado. Usually he'd call, or buzz in, or at the very least _knock_. "I have had a very bad day, and I think I'm going to cry. Can I sleep on the couch?"

Hide, who had been sitting in the dark in boxers and a baggy tee shirt, a bowl of ramen in his hands and nothing but the dim glow of the television to light his expression, gaped openly.

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little strained from barely contained laughter. "That's cool, man."

"Thanks." Kaneki kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch that Hide had his back up against. He watched the ceiling fan whir noiselessly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Kaneki sniffed. He threw his white coat toward the corner of the room and continued to stare at the ceiling fan. "Not really," he admitted.

"I think you should anyway."

"Because of your whole communication thing?" Kaneki closed his eyes. "Hi, I'm Kaneki Ken, I have zero agency over my own body and my own actions. Life sucks. I want to die."

"Well, that's better than usual." Hide set the bowl of ramen aside on the coffee table. "Do you really want to die?"

"Only a little."

"Well," Hide said, sounding a bit relieved, "that's normal. Lots of people want to die just a little. But, you know, I'm worried about you. You don't say everything you mean, do you? No, I don't think so."

"Neither do you."

It was quiet except for the television, which rattled off some numbers— ghoul statistics, it seemed like.

"I'm sorry," Hide said softly. "Do you want me to be more honest?"

Kaneki's eyes opened. The ceiling was a steely gray, as cold and lonesome as the sunset.

 _Yes,_ he thought desperately.

"No," he said hesitantly.

The man on the television used words like _menace_ and _disturbing_.

Hide sighed, and he picked up his bowl and rose to his feet.

"I think," he said, making his way toward the kitchen, "that if we keep going like this, our friendship is doomed."

Kaneki smiled at the ceiling ruefully.

"You know," he replied, "it was probably doomed from the start."

* * *

"Fuck!"

The gun slipped from his fingers as he instinctively reached out and snatched the boy before he collapsed onto the ground. He wasn't that heavy, and just holding him for a few moments was confirmation that he was still alive.

"That's enough, Eto," Ayato said fiercely, pulling the boy onto his back. "I'm done. I'm not with Aogiri anymore, got it?"

"Oh?" She didn't sound disappointed or angry, which was somewhat of a relief. Of course Ayato was pissed at her for putting him in this situation in the first place, but he could do without getting executed. "So you're helping the human? That's what you choose?"

"I guess so." Ayato exhaled irritably. "Get out of my way. I'm done with you."

This was not how he'd been expecting the night to end up, but now he was responsible for some punk ass human kid, and since he'd already decided not to kill him he was stuck with him. He kicked the bag and the gun behind the garbage can the boy had been hiding behind, and he shot a look at Eto.

"Don't be a bitch and touch his shit," Ayato snapped. "You already shot him and made it worse than it had to be."

"You've grown up so much," Eto cooed. "I'm really touched. Truly."

"Shut the fuck up," Ayato muttered, his face suddenly burning. He _hated_ that voice she used, like he was some fucking baby, like dear god, _why_?

"I'll take the gun." Eto bent down and dangled the gun off her index finger, her head cocking innocently. "After all, it isn't something children should be playing with."

"Fine. Whatever."

"As for your question," Eto said, turning away from him and starting toward the opposite end of the alley, "Touka is fine. Though, dare I say she seems a bit… oh, I don't know… sullen?" The tiny creature paused to look back at him, her kakugan burning eerily in the hollow of one eye. "I think she misses you."

"If she missed me," Ayato said glumly, "she would come home."

"Maybe she is trying to teach you a lesson." Eto giggled, and she turned away again, her feet padding softly against the asphalt. "Being left behind… it's such a hurtful thing to do to someone you love. Now you know what it feels like."

He did know what it felt like. It was excruciating.

She left him in the alley, the unconscious boy weighing him down, and he was compelled to drop him right then and there. Why the hell had he saved the boy in the first place? Ayato was fucking tired of this. It seemed to him like he was exerting himself in his kindness attempts, only to be left to the wolves at the end of the day. Screw that!

And yet, here he was. Adjusting the boy on his back and stepping out of the alley. He would hate himself for this later, he knew, and that was weighing on his mind more than the boy weighed down his back. While he walked, he contemplated all the different ways he could end this boy's miserable life. There was a river somewhere around here, the boy could drown and no one would suspect. The boy could fall, tragically, to his death from the top of a high building. The boy could be tossed in front of a large truck, crushed beneath several tons of weight and dead in an instant. The boy could just be strangled, Ayato's hands around his throat, severing his spine from his skull without much effort at all.

Anyway, Ayato did none of that. He trudged on, boy on his back, guilt on his mind, and he decided he was the stupidest fucking person in the whole world.

Well, except maybe for this kid. Did the dude have any common sense? At all?

Ayato snuck around the back of Anteiku, letting himself in with a spare key that was wedged between the crack in the doorframe. He readjusted his grip on the boy, and hoped for the best.

Luckily Anteiku had closed at least an hour or two ago, so the main floor was dark. He slipped quietly through the room, and froze for a short moment when the boy on his back moaned softly. Ayato realized he'd probably left a trail of blood, which was not great. He also realized his kakugan was activated. Even better!

He fled quickly up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise, and he barged into his apartment breathlessly.

"Ayato…? Oh, god!" Hinami's voice heightened rather abruptly in horror, and he saw her leap to her feet. "What happened? Who is that?"

"Not now," Ayato muttered, bringing the injured boy to the table in the kitchen and all but dropping him on it. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Hinami ran to his side, snatching his arm and patting his back soothingly. "Calm down," she urged him, her voice breaking a bit as her eyes flashed to the boy's bloody leg. "I… he… ooh, no."

"How do we fix this?" Ayato muttered, lowering his head into his hands. "How do you fix a human? Should we get the bullet out?"

" _Bullet_?"

"Yes, a fucking bullet!" Ayato was shaking, and he didn't know if it was out of rage or guilt or madness or hunger. He didn't know anything, and he was terrified. "And I tracked blood all over the place getting him up here! I probably just killed us all! I wish I'd taken his gun so I could shoot myself!"

"Ayato," Hinami said firmly, her small fingers tightening around his bicep suddenly. "Calm down. Blood washes away. I'll go do it myself, if you want, okay? Just please calm down. I don't think this boy is going to die, so everything should be fine. Okay?"

"How the hell is anything going to be fine?" Ayato asked her sharply.

"Just watch." Hinami released him and marched over to a cupboard, pulling a bottle of bleach from its depths and kicking it shut. She glanced at him, and smiled thinly before snatching a rag from the counter and walking out the door.

When Ayato was alone, the reality of this situation hit him. Hard.

He had just brought a human boy into Anteiku. A human boy who was likely the child of an investigator. Why was he like this? Why didn't he ever think?

Not for the first time, he considered how much easier it would have been if he had just killed the boy. _Why_ hadn't he just killed him? Fuck his goddamn conscience! This was bullshit!

His thoughts were a haze, explosions and dust, and he realized with every moment that passed that he was so different than what he once was. Not just physically and emotionally, but _morally_. What had Anteiku done to him? He didn't understand it at all.

If he had to be honest, he was really scared. What would happen if this human lived? If this human _died_? He didn't know how to feel about any of this, and it was scary! He was terrified!

Kirishima Ayato was fifteen years old, and he didn't know what the fuck he was doing! Somebody fucking help him!

As if on cue, there was a steady knock at the door.

Ayato froze up, his voice catching in his throat. The boy on the table gave a slight shudder, and a mild groan. He was waking up. Ayato dragged his hands down his face. Oh shit, what was he supposed to do now?

He stepped shakily towards the door, his eyes shifting nervously toward the boy. When he opened it, he was shocked to find the familiar face.

"You!" Ayato gasped, jerking a finger in Nishio Nishiki's face.

"Me," Nishiki replied dryly. "No need to act so shocked. Honestly, you look like you've seen a—oh, what the _**fuck**_?"

Nishiki had looked past Ayato's head and into the kitchen, his eyes landing on the injured boy lying limp and bloody on the table.

"I…" Ayato was speechless. How was he supposed to explain this? There was no explanation. So he just stared at Nishiki as Nishiki stared at the boy. "Hey! You were pre-med, right?"

Nishiki yelped as Ayato snatched him by the front of the shirt and dragged in into the apartment. There was a box in his hands.

"Pre-med? Are you kidding?" Nishiki croaked. "I was in pharmaceuticals!"

"Isn't that like, basically medicine?"

"What?" Nishiki stared him down, understanding suddenly dawning on him as they stopped before the boy on the table. "Do you want me to _fix_ this?"

"That would be nice, yeah."

"Ayato," Nishiki said flatly, prying Ayato's fingers from his shirt, "I'm not a doctor. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with a human boy! If I'm not careful I could kill him."

"Then be careful!" Ayato shook his head furiously. "Do you think I'd do any better? How the fuck do you remove a bullet?"

"There's a bullet in him?" Nishiki's eyes flashed to the boy quickly, alarm crossing his features. As the boy shuddered and groaned on the table, Nishiki drew closer. "You know, kid, you have a knack for finding trouble."

"Can't you do something?" Ayato felt like a child pleading for a toy, but he couldn't help it. If they didn't fix this, then they would have to do something about this dead body, and it would probably be a disaster. Not that they weren't equipped to deal with such a thing, but Ayato went through so much trouble bringing him here that it would be such a waste.

"I… shit, kid, I don't know…" Nishiki rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Maybe? Removing a bullet is like… that's surgery, man, I could fuck him up really bad if I'm not careful. Maybe just take him to a hospital?"

"And tell them what?" Ayato asked heatedly, shooting Nishiki a sharp look for even suggesting such a ridiculous thing. "That some ghoul stole his stolen gun and shot him in the leg? I don't want to be held responsible for this! I already fucked up enough!"

"So why didn't you just leave him?" Nishiki's voice seemed to raise a bit to match Ayato's panicked pitch. "If you're so worried, why even bother?"

"I don't _know_!" Ayato threw his hands into the air. "Why do I need a reason? You motherfuckers are the peace-loving sort, not me, I don't _think_ about my motivation okay? I just did it, and now he's here, and I don't want him to die, or lose a leg, or whatever!"

"Jeez…" Nishiki winced and batted his hands against the air mildly. "Okay, okay, calm down. We'll figure something out."

"Where…?"

Ayato turned sharply and met the dazed eye of the boy on the table. He'd woken abruptly and lifted himself on his elbows to get a look around.

"Shit," Ayato said flatly.

The boy stared. His mouth fell open, and then he hissed and fell back onto his side. "Who _are_ you?" he uttered distantly.

Ayato was at a loss. Did he tell the boy? Did he risk that? He was so frightened of this whole situation, his heart thudding madly in his chest, his eyes wide and fixed on the boy's ashen face. He had never been the kind of person who stuck their neck out for someone else. Not until now.

"My name is Ayato," he said, frowning deeply, "and I just saved your goddamn life."

The boy looked at him dully, clearly incredulous. And then, with a defeated sigh, he rested his head back onto the table.

"Whatever," he said flatly. "I'll believe it. You were weird from the start."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said— oh, _ow_ …" The boy lurched upright, hissing as he grasped his leg. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted and a sharp breath hissing between his teeth. "Damn it…"

"Ah!" Ayato looked frantically up at Nishiki, who had backed up considerably since the boy had woken up. "What should we do?"

Nishiki's eyes were wide. He looked between the boy and Ayato. Then, with a heavy sigh, he growled, "God damn it."

He tossed the package in his hands aside and marched up to the table. "Ayato, get me scissors, a rag, hot water, rubbing alcohol, a candle and matches—"

"Slow down!" Ayato gaped at the man, and he looked toward the boy. The boy stared back. "You're cool with this, right?"

"I don't even know what's going on," he hissed.

"I'm going to get the bullet out of your leg," Nishiki said, laying his hands flat on the table and staring straight into the boy's eye. "Tell me right now if you'd rather go to the hospital."

The boy was clearly bewildered, his mouth falling open as his eyes shifted vacantly from Nishiki to Ayato. "Are you…? Are you serious?"

"You are bleeding all over my kitchen, so _yeah_." Ayato rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yeah, we're fucking serious!"

"Ayato, lower your voice. Let's just calm down, okay?"

"What?" Ayato snapped. "This is me _being_ calm!"

"Um, if you're going to get the bullet out," the boy said dully, "I'd rather you do it sooner rather than later."

Both Ayato and Nishiki stared at him dumbly. They shared a bewildered look.

"I'll go get the scissors and stuff," Ayato murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> conclamito, conclamitare [intr].  
> to keep on shouting.  
> keep on yelling.


	43. graphice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes yes, it has been a little while. i told you school was fucking me up. it'll probably be the same next semester, ha ha.. also i was writing a star wars fic because star wars is fun. 
> 
> i'm trying to figure out how im going to get to the end of this. i know the ending, and i'm close to it, i just can't bridge that last gap. we'll get there! but until then, enjoy!

The sunlight was casting an off-white tint, bathing his skin in pale blues and grays. The trees were trees, one or two of them and then a massive green blur that seemed to stretch on forever. The blues and the grays fell over the green too, creating a paradox of color that made the eye trail away from its particular direction. Like it was not a color that could even be possible, like it was not a color that wanted to be seen.

The sit-and-spin was big enough for the two of them. Its rusty frame buckled uneasily in some phantom wind. It turned one way, and then reversed abruptly like a record on a turntable. It was dizzying.

"You look distracted."

He turned his attention to Haru, who was lying in the center of the disc. It was no carousel, and there were no horses or ornate designs or vivid colors. Just a rusty disc with some handles for a person on the ground to push so momentum could get you spinning.

"Sorry," Shirazu said guiltily. "I was just thinkin'. Do ya think I made the right choice?"

Haru smiled. "Suppose you didn't," she said, "what would you even do about it?"

He considered it only for a short moment. "I'd make things right," he said firmly.

Haru's eyes seemed to glitter madly, and then that glitter seemed to fade. Her eyes which had always been so bright and lively sunk into her small skull, and when he blinked she was gone.

He bolted upright, panic flooding him, the sky swirling madly in a gloom of gray steel clouds that belched smoke and dust. The trees were burning, smoky green fading into burgundy and umber, branches shivering as a burst of wind knocked every leaf from its perch. Everything was turning, the world and the sky and the creaky metal disc that rusted beneath him.

It was too much. It was all too much.

"Haru?" he called faintly, his voice carried off by the howling of the wind. _She's here,_ he thought wildly, his heart hammering in his chest, _she must be here, right? Where could she go?_ "Haru!"

"Here I am."

He saw her in the whirl of the merry-go-round, every spin granting him a shuddering image of her. She stood, eyes front, hair askew, cheeks hollowed out, and she smiled at him.

From below her eye, a monster grew.

"Haru!" Shirazu tried to reach for her, but the momentum had glued him to the metal floor.

"You can't make some things right, Ginshi," the small girl said. Whatever had her, whatever was within her, killing her with an agonizing pace, it made itself known by poking out one of her eyeballs. Every sweep of this spinning wheel left Shirazu with another lost piece of his sister. She changed. Once with a hollow eye, twice with a shivering limb crawling from the pit of her skull, thrice with it crawling across her skin and consuming her.

He woke up with a cry, his sheets caked to his limbs from the cold sweat that bathed him. His heartbeat could pen symphonies with its speed, and his breath could shatter glass with its uneasy pitch.

"Goddamn…" he breathed, sliding a shaky hand over his face and pushing his sweaty hair from his eyes. The dream's details were quickly washed from his memory, his consciousness coming to terms with the stark reality surrounding him. All he knew was that the worst part of the dream had been real, and it made his heart ache terribly.

His weekly ritual of going to see Haru had not fallen flat in his months after becoming an investigator. But his feelings toward the visits had grown progressively more negative as time elapsed. See, Shirazu was fucking scared.

What if there _was_ no cure?

He had saved as much money as he could, and he gave every penny he had to keeping Haru's disease at bay, but he had a feeling that keeping it at bay was probably the best anyone could do. Like this "cure" was just a scam, or something.

But he had to keep going. He had to keep fighting. For her. For this. For a _chance_ that she might be saved.

His alarm clock told him it was an ugly hour, and the sun would rise in thirty minutes or so. He sat in his bed, his eyes following the tricks darkness played on the white wall across from him. It was so easy to grow obsessed with something and to not even fully realize it. It was so easy to simply leave yourself at the door once tragedy consumed you. Sometimes Shirazu forgot where he was, who he was, what he did, or if he was even supposed to feel anything beyond this intense anxiety that he'd missed a payment.

Anyway, the wall was something else entirely. It was white and it was shadow and it was neither here nor there, and it held his gaze for minutes and minutes on end. He was going to be swallowed by it, and he didn't care.

The odd thing was, when he extricated himself from the folds of those shadows and the tricks of light, he didn't feel all that different. This anxiety that crushed him from that terrible dream, it had settled within him. No, it had not gone away, but he felt as though his day was beginning and he had to go about it anyway.

This was nothing new. That anxiety was always with him. A part of him, perhaps, that he would never be able to remove from himself.

He got up, his knees a bit wobbly and his eyes a bit strained, and he made his way toward the door as if in a trance. He needed some water, and maybe some strong coffee.

Not wanting to wake Kaneki, he tip-toed to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap in near complete darkness. He guzzled it down, and then filled it up again. Rinse and repeat, as they do.

Dawn was starting to spill into the apartment, the living room turning a sickly shade of gray. Shirazu gulped up another glass of water before traveling lethargically back towards his room. He passed the empty couch as he went.

Immediately he paused, utterly stunned and undoubtedly confused. Had Kaneki gone to the bathroom or something? Yeah, that was probably it.

Shirazu returned to his room, only to be startled by an abrupt knock at the door. He paused, trying to make sense of the hour and the action, trying to align this whole situation in his muddled, sleep-deprived mind. He just couldn't.

He made his way cautiously toward the door, peeking out the peephole to no avail. He saw no one in the dark hallway, and like… yeah, okay, he should have been a little more freaked out than he was. A weird knock at the break of dawn, no Kaneki to be found, a rather vile nightmare still stirring up bad feelings in the pit of his stomach.

But he was way too tired to give a shit.

So Shirazu unlocked the door and opened it right up.

If he'd been preparing to use his kagune (which on some level he had been), he would need to get a faster reaction time, because he was shoved aside rather abruptly as a small figure rushed into the apartment.

"Is he here?" Hori Chie asked breathlessly, her small head whipping about sharply. Shirazu stood mutely, squinting at her in the darkness, and he rubbed his head irritably.

"Uh, Kaneki?" Shirazu closed one eye thoughtfully as he glanced at the ceiling. "Well, yeah, he _should_ be… I mean I thought he was in the bathroom, y'know but… maybe…" He considered the chance that Kaneki was not home at all, and his heart secretly plummeted.

"What?" In the dim morning light, the small girl looked not only puzzled but completely on edge. Her hair was all awry, sticking up haphazardly in places as though she'd whisked her fingers through it one too many times. Her eyes were darting viciously around the room, ticking off every nook and cranny with an astuteness that Shirazu didn't quite follow. Her voice was composed but somewhat off— short and distant, as though she her mind and body had traveled too fast for the situation to truly catch up to her. "No. What? Is Kaneki not here?"

"Uh…" Shirazu glanced at the couch, which was still devoid of any human form. In fact, Kaneki's pillow and blanket were nowhere to be seen. His heart sunk lower. He swallowed hard. "I… I don't think he is."

Chie stared at him for a moment. She took a deep breath, and she nodded.

"Okay," she said. "There is a simple explanation for this."

"Kaneki being gone?" Shirazu smiled faintly. "I'm sure… I mean, ya know, he's Kaneki. It's not like this hasn't happened before. Sometimes he just… I dunno. Finds somewhere else to sleep."

"Do you think he might be with Urie?"

Shirazu scoffed. "What?" He pinched his eyes between his thumb and forefinger, trying to make sense of her words. "Kanekun and Kuki? Ha… Kanekuki…"

"Shirazu," Chie said calmly, "focus."

"Oh." Shirazu blinked. "Right. Um, no? The last time they even really spoke to each other was that one time when Kanekun scared the shit out of Kuki. You were there, remember?"

"Really?" she said flatly. "Okay, I'm sitting down."

"Um, do you want something…?"

"The light on. Please."

Shirazu cautiously obliged. With every passing moment, he felt his heart sinking lower in his chest, and it frightened him. Truly.

Chie looked small on the couch. As the light illuminated her round, unnaturally pale face, she seemed even smaller. Less like a child, more like a toddler, and shrinking by the second. Shirazu had grown to know this girl well, come to like her, come to see her as a friend even. Nothing shook this girl up.

Nothing.

So what had happened?

"Don't freak out," she said, her voice small and a bit raspy.

"Okay," he said faintly.

She didn't look at him. Her big brown eyes were wide and focused straight ahead, staring holes into the pores of white paint that seeped into the wall.

"I think Urie might be missing," she said.

To Shirazu's credit, he didn't freak out. He had, after all, begun to put the pieces together in his head, and his sinking heart had hit the bottom of his stomach and kicked up a nasty plume of dirt like a rock disturbing the floor of a filmy lake.

"Missing," Shirazu repeated, his voice lifting from his mouth unbidden. He didn't seem to know if he was the one speaking, and felt detached from this word.

"I'm sure he's fine," she said.

Shirazu watched her. The look on her face, the state she was in…

Fine? Really?

Did she really fucking expect him to believe that?

"Ya told me not to freak out," Shirazu said, his voice wavering. "But I'm gonna be honest. I'm freakin' out."

"Please don't," Chie breathed, her shoulders slouching. "I don't _know_ for sure, okay? I just… I was with him, and… we got into a fight. I was already worried! I think Aogiri is on his scent, and—"

" _Aogiri_?" Shirazu couldn't help the way his voice raised. His eyes narrowed at the girl, and he found himself shaking, his knees and his hands and his shoulders quaking. "Aogiri will rip him apart if they find him! It's not like he's a ghoul, he'll— he'll die!"

"That's what I was trying to tell him." Chie raised her eyes to his sharply. "Shirazu, we're on the same side here. Don't forget that."

"He's not at home?" Shirazu chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to understand what was happening. When Chie shook her head, he exhaled sharply. "Well, he's gotta be somewhere! Aogiri… how could Aogiri know?"

"They found my blog," Chie said. "I denied knowing who he was, but they're not stupid, Shirazu. They'll find out eventually."

"Then let them think it's _me_." Shirazu shook his head furiously. "I'll meet up with them if that's what it takes, but— but, Chie, Kuki is human. Like, he thinks he can do stuff, but—"

"I know." Chie looked so resigned in that moment that Shirazu found himself calming down. "I'm really worried. I heard a gunshot, Shirazu."

"A gun…?" Shirazu found himself shrinking into a chair across from Chie. "You don't think… I know he would but, still, you don't think he's…?"

"I don't know what to think," Chie said. "All I know is that when I went to investigate, all I found was his backpack and fresh blood. I am _really_ worried, Shirazu."

"Fresh…?" Shirazu couldn't really bear it. This was too much. Urie wasn't one to let people worry over him, but Shirazu couldn't help it. Aogiri might have him. He had spent too many nights listening to the aftermath of Mutsuki's nightmares to think little of this fact.

"I'm going to do some more investigating," Chie said, "but I wanted to come here first. Make sure he wasn't… um…" Chie tilted her head at him. And then she shrugged. "Well, obviously he's not here."

Shirazu tilted his head back. "He doesn't really sleep over here," he said. "His dad would never let him."

"Right." Chie's expression was hard to read. "Do you know where Kaneki might be?"

"Honestly…?" Shirazu winced. "I didn't even realize he was gone. Um, I'm sure he's fine though!"

"He might be at Hide's."

They both turned abruptly at the sound of a timid voice. Standing in the doorframe between the living room and his bedroom was a dull eyed boy. His kakugan was free for them to see, and if it bothered Chie, she did not show it.

"Tooru!" Shirazu's voice raised in pitch, and he grimaced. "Shit, did we wake ya up?"

"Not really." Mutsuki settled down beside Chie on the couch. "I was kind of listening the whole time. So Urie was possibly captured by Aogiri?"

"I have zero confirmation on that," Chie said, looking at Mutsuki sharply. Shirazu knew she'd noted the dark look that passed the boy's face. "I wouldn't go looking for trouble, Mutsuki. It could have been anything."

"My gut says Aogiri was involved."

"Keep your gut to yourself, man," Shirazu said weakly. "Like Chie said! We don't know anything. We _can't_ know anything."

Mutsuki sunk into his seat and frowned at the ceiling.

"I hate that I've become the pessimist," he muttered.

"So stop being such a downer."

"You think I really want to be like this?" Mutsuki glanced at him, and Shirazu was suddenly filled with immense guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said gently.

"Yeah." Mutsuki blinked, and he shook his head. "It's fine. I'm sorry too."

"Nice to know you two still love each other," Chie said dryly. "But now we should probably start figuring out what we're going to do. I can confirm if Aogiri has Urie or not within the day, but we should start making a game plan on what we do if they do have him… and what we do if they don't."

"I'm fully ready to turn myself in as the Painter," Shirazu said firmly.

"And I'm ready to make sure that doesn't happen," Mutsuki said in a dull voice. "So let's come up with a better plan. Can Touka help?"

"As the new face of your little movement," Chie said, with a slight roll of her eyes, "she might be able to pull something. But that won't help anyone of Aogiri doesn't have him. What do we do then?"

"Who else would take him if not Aogiri?" Shirazu asked blankly.

"Ghouls are ghouls, Shirazu," Mutsuki murmured. "Not all of them are friendly."

"It's true." Chie pressed her lips together thinly. "If he's dead… I don't want to really think about it, but I really have been thinking about it whole lot, so I'll just bring it up. If he's dead, so is the Painter. You guys were a package deal, but Urie was the talent."

"I know that," Shirazu said. He felt numb to her words, which he knew would have sent him into a fit of panicked tears not even thirty minutes ago. He felt so desensitized all of a sudden. Like he was in a stupor or something.

"We probably should prepare ourselves for the worst."

Shirazu pressed his lips together. He didn't want to speak. He didn't want to dignify that with a response.

But it wasn't like she was wrong, or anything.

The truth was, he was so scared.

Urie was his friend. They were partners in this odd little scheme, and for one reason or another, Urie had become… was obsessed the right word?

Probably.

But if Urie had been consumed by the beast that the Painter had become, then Shirazu had let him. He knew it would be dangerous. He knew they could be killed by either organization if they slipped up. And he let Urie join him anyway.

"I'll try to get in touch with Kaneki," Mutsuki said after a long, uncomfortable silence.

"And I'll try to figure out what the happened to Urie," Chie said, rising to her feet.

Shirazu remained quiet. He knew that if he spoke, his words would be nothing but unreasonable.

 _Don't be dead_ , he thought numbly. _Please don't be dead_.

* * *

The world was a spinning white haze when he woke up. Everything was glazed in a film, like swaths of sheer fabric had been laid over his eyes and left him half blind to his surroundings.

He felt like the world had bubbled him, and he was struggling to find air. He felt like nothing around him was real, and that he would fade from existence at any given moment. It was so _stifling_. He breathed. In, out, and in again, and he wasn't quite sure if his breaths were reaching his lungs. His eyes found spots on a white ceiling, and he thought that they might be black or grey or orange or red. He thought he might be dead.

Piecing together what had happened took a long time. He was lying there for hours, probably, or maybe it had only been minutes of contemplating the dazzling effect of red or gray or orange or black constellations.

There had been a point in time when he'd been shot, yes. He remembered that. The feeling of it, the odd _pop_ and the detachment that came after, the rationalizing, the thought: _This can't be happening to me._

It had been his own fault. His own mistake. Now, looking over the hazy details, he knew it to be true. He had not listened to Chie. He had not learned from the past.

He just repeated his failures, and thought that it would turn out well this time around.

Now he was lying in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed, and every minute passing ticked a new sensation, like his pain was crawling up a shaft in the dark, waiting for this blinding light to cease.

His head was pounding now. The light was dimming, replaced by a bleak hyperawareness of his surroundings. He was in what he could only assume was a girl's bedroom, a dull pain pinching the back of his leg as he continued to recall the rather unpleasant circumstances behind it. Surgery! On a kitchen table! Hanging around Shirazu had definitely left Urie with a few dead brain cells, that was for sure.

Well, Urie had to tick off what he knew about his situation.

 _I was attacked by a ghoul,_ he thought, _and then I was saved… by a ghoul… and taken here… but I don't know where here is. And then I was pretty much saved again. And now I'm lying in some random girl's room. God, I hate my life_.

At this point, Urie could assume these ghouls were not interested in killing or eating him. They wouldn't have gone through this much trouble to keep him alive if their intent was malicious. Now he just had to figure out how he was going to explain this to his father.

"Oh!"

In all his musings, and his apparent "hyperawareness," which he now understood to be bullshit, he had not noticed the door opening. A girl, presumably the owner of this room, was standing before him with a tray in her arms.

Urie watched her mutely. As far as appearances went, she was rather plain and admittedly pretty young. Her round face had flushed a particularly dark shade of red, and she turned her head back to look out the door.

"I… brought you some food." She bowed her head, her honey blonde hair falling into her face. "I didn't know you were awake. Are you feeling better?"

Urie, who was currently drugged out of his goddamn mind and still in a nice bit of pain, did not fully know how to reply to this.

She stared at him. The girl laughed off her clear discomfort, and she gently set the tray down on a table beside his bed. "Not much of a talker, then," she said. "That's fine. Ayato wasn't really at first either."

It took Urie a moment to recall that Ayato was the name of the boy who had saved him. He frowned, not entirely sure what to make of her words. Did that mean that Ayato didn't live here, then? Urie was so damn confused.

"Who…" Urie's voice cracked a bit under the strain of disuse and discomfort. "Who are you?"

The girl beamed at him. She hooked her fingers behind her back, and she said brightly, "My name is Hinami. What's yours?"

"Uh." He sat up, wincing a bit as a sharp bout of pain shot through his leg. "I'm Urie."

It was clear from her exuberant expression that she had been dying to get a name out of him. Her expression immediately brightened, and then softened, like light shifting in through a small window. She reached out to a desk and dragged a rolling chair over to his bedside.

"Well, Urie," she said, plopping down in the chair, "you won't believe the trouble it was to get that bullet out. Do you remember any of it?"

"Was I awake for any of it?"

"Yes." Her smile shrunk a bit as her eyes darkened, the reflection of a horrible memory passing over her bright brown gaze. The dull throbbing in his leg was growing worse by the second, and trying to imagine what it had been like to have someone digging around for a bullet was kind of nauseating. "Luckily our friend is pretty good at um, biology and stuff. He was able to get the bullet out without damaging anything."

"Well that's good to know." Urie frowned deeply. "You're a ghoul?"

She stiffened. It was answer enough for his innocent question, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Attempting to figure out his own sense of morality right now was going to make him feel even worse, and he could do without a throbbing head to match his throbbing leg.

"Sorry I asked," he muttered, resting his head back against the pillow. There was a fragrance to it that lingered in the fibers, something vaguely flowery that could have been shampoo or perfume. He couldn't help but feel vaguely guilty for sleeping in her bed.

Hinami looked down at her hands, not so much sheepish as she was uncomfortable. He could see it in her face, the uncertainty and mild terror that came with his presence in her home. He could be her undoing. He may very well be her undoing, if truth be told.

How terrible that must feel, to realize your fate's string has been wrapped around a pair of scissors, not knowing when the blades will fall.

She pressed her lips together thinly, her eyes flitting everywhere but where his face happened to be, and she exhaled. "It's okay," she said, though the tremor in her voice made it apparent that it was not okay. His presence was a burden here. He was nothing but trouble, and he made her uncomfortable.

He might not have cared all that long ago what this puny ghoul thought of him. Now, though?

The guilt was immense and it was a damn pain.

"What kind of pain killers did you give me?" he asked, pinching his eyes. They still weren't quite adjusted to daylight or the world of the living by any means, so he was getting a headache.

"I'm not sure." She shifted in her seat, looking somewhere between discomfort and relief. "Nishiki knows all that stuff. Whatever he did worked pretty well, right? I mean, that's what I gathered."

"Yeah," Urie said dazedly, "I guess. I'm starting to feel it pretty bad now."

"Ah!" Hinami leapt to her feet. "I'll go ask if you should be given something."

"That's not really—" But she was already gone.

He sat, his head resting against the pillow, and he couldn't imagine his life getting any weirder. To be rescued by a ghoul, to be recovering from an injury in a ghoul's home, to be a literal ghoul activist, to be the son of a ghoul investigator. Life to him seemed to be nothing but a string of contradictions. He was cold, he was passionate, he was passionless, he was loved, he was lonely, he was bored, he was living, he was hating, he was protecting, he was projecting, he was still. Now or never, now and then, now, forever, or never, it didn't _matter_. He recognized his own follies in the very way he existed.

No one could have predicted that he'd turn out like this. A messy ball of strings that not even the great Alexander could unravel. No sword would cut through him, because he was steel, and he was unwavering.

He watched the ceiling, imagining Hinami's face if he'd told her that his father was an investigator. If he told her that he was going to be one too, one day. Kill them all, or save them all, or do nothing all together. Were these his only choices in life?

He was so confused.

 _What should I do?_ It was a thought, like any other thought, strange and fleeting and weighing heavy on his brain. _Should I follow? Should I lead? Should I stay stagnant in this place where nothing seems to go forward or back? I need to know. I have to know. What should I do?_

Life did not protect the weary, or the downtrodden. Life did not spare the good-natured or the sad. Life came in, a raging storm, toppling buildings and flooding whole streets, whole cities, whole countries, and swallowed up everything that was or could be.

It was death that came in softly. The aftermath, not the event. The stillness after the monsoon.

If he closed his eyes, the white ceiling might disappear. If he thought about his mother, would the answer be clear?

He closed his eyes. He saw nothing.

He felt nothing.

 _Mother,_ he thought, _mother, what should I do? You know, right? I know you know, so tell me. I'm begging you…_

But his mother was nothing more than a passing thought, a picture in a frame, and her voice had long faded from the channel of his memories. He couldn't imagine her more than a static photograph, a smile frozen in time, eyes simultaneously bright and utterly lifeless.

It didn't even make him feel bad. That was the scary part.

Not feeling bad almost made him feel bad, and he was left to puzzle out his mess of contradictions.

Sick of lying around, and somewhat unhinged from the amount of pain that had poured into his leg, he tossed the blanket away and attempted to roll off the bed. It resulted just as well as was to be expected. The crash was not so loud as the shout that escaped his mouth, strangled and pained. A curse died in his mouth.

Suddenly there were people around him, rushing in and blinking in a perplexed manner, like they'd never seen somebody fall before. His cheeks were bright red, burning from the shame that had enveloped him. This was great. Really, truly amazing. He was going to kill someone, or maybe himself, or maybe do some kind of murder-suicide thing. Great.

"Shit." A hand landed on his arm, and a bleak face appeared in Urie's line of vision. The boy from earlier, Ayato, was attempting to help him up. "Are you dumb? Are you actually fucking stupid?"

His shame melted into indignant fury pretty damn quick.

"Get your hands off me." He tore his arm away, falling back onto his ass as he did so, and he scowled. "I'm fine. Okay? Fine. I just need to call my dad."

It felt like he had a sea of faces hovering over him, and every one seemed to turn and consult the other with sharp, fervent looks. It was unsettling, watching the same expression pass over two, three, four entirely different people. Urie's scowl fell, a worried frown replacing it. What was their problem?

"Maybe you shouldn't," a man with pale, shaggy curls suggested.

"Is that a fucking joke?" Urie said flatly.

"Do you think we don't know who your dad is?" Ayato shot back.

Urie's eyes flashed to him dangerously. He was furious, absolutely _livid_ on his father's behalf. Like these fools knew him! Like they knew _Urie_ enough to judge whether he'd sell them out— it was so ridiculous!

"I just need to let him know I'm alive," he said stoically. His rage may have been palpable though, a chilly wave flooding the room and causing Hinami to visibly shiver. "He's going to worry. He's going to come looking for me."

"Yo," the man with the shaggy curls said, pushing his glasses up his nose and shrugging. "There are two choices you've got, kid, okay? One is you stay here for a day or two more, keep quiet, heal enough to walk on crutches at the very least— or you're outie, like to the highest degree of out. You get no further assistance from us."

" _Nishiki_!" Hinami hissed, looking absolutely horrified at the man's suggestions. Urie was totally fine with getting out of here. The problem was, with his leg in this condition, and the pain killers clearly wearing off, he didn't think he'd make it out the door so much as _home_.

"I can't even begin to explain why that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Urie rolled his eyes, falling back onto his elbows irritably. "You know I might be able to still explain this if I contact him now, right?"

"You in or you out?" Nishiki asked dully.

Urie's eyes narrowed. As much as he was dying to get out of here, he knew objectively that it was a dumb idea. He also knew that this would probably hurt them more than it hurt him once his dad came snooping around.

"Whatever," he muttered, resting his forehead against the bed. "Can I get an aspirin?"

* * *

He'd been enjoying a rare dreamless sleep, lost in a peaceful void when a steady shake let the weary thoughts back in.

 _I wonder if Amon hates me_. It was a simple thought— jarring but sure— and it popped the illusion of peace that had blanketed him for a few short hours. His eyes opened, elastic snapping and returning to its innately tight shape.

Hide's face hovered over his head, plain and a little weary as he smiled. There was a phone in his hand, offered out to him expectantly.

"What…?" Kaneki groaned, drawing his hands down his face. His exhaustion was catching up to him. How many sleepless nights had he gone trying to map out a case that he already knew the result of? How much time had he spent chasing ghosts? He was so damn tired of it all.

"The children have called." Hide sat cautiously at the edge of the couch as Kaneki sat up. The edge of his vision was bleary from sleep. "Maybe you should have told them where you went."

"I was a little preoccupied."

"Just take the phone."

Kaneki sighed in defeat. What the hell? It was barely even morning. He glanced at the phone and decided that there were not enough digits in the time for it to be an hour worth waking up at.

"Hello?" he said groggily.

" _Kaneki_!" It was Mutsuki's voice, soft and relieved as it rung clear in his ears. " _God, you scared us! Are you okay_?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his eyes tiredly with his knuckles, stifling a yawn as he turned away from Hide. "Just fell asleep at Hide's. What's up?"

" _I_ told _you_ ," Mutsuki muttered, likely to Shirazu. Shirazu's voice cut in sharply. " _Shaddup, man! How was I supposed to know?_ "

"Guys, I'm fine." Kaneki sighed, though he couldn't help a content smile from rising to his lips. He was happy they were worried about him. "Do you need something? I can probably run and get it on my way home."

" _Have you seen Kuki?_ " Shirazu asked urgently.

Kaneki blinked, trying to fully process his words. He shared an uneasy glance with Hide, and said hesitantly, "I have not. Do I want to know why you're asking?"

" _He's_ missing!" Shirazu moaned rather dramatically, and Kaneki's eyes widened as an obscenely loud _clunk_ spat out of the receiver.

" _Oh, Shirazu_ ," Mutsuki sighed, " _get up. I'm sure he's fine. You know you don't come home until dawn sometimes._ "

" _Something bad happened!_ " Shirazu cried. " _I can feel it, man! Got it squirmin' in my gut!_ "

"That would be some impressive intuition, Shirazu," Kaneki said with a good natured chuckle. "Look, Urie's a slippery character, so it's possible he just doesn't want to be found right now. If he doesn't turn up in the next twenty four hours, then we'll have cause to worry."

" _Are ya even listenin' to me, Kanekun_?"

"We have no reason to believe anything has happened, right?" Kaneki rested his head back and stared absently at the ceiling. "I'm not doubting your instincts, but it's possible that it could be nothing. Do you really want to rile up Urie Senior just because of a hunch?"

" _Well_ ," Shirazu said stiffly, " _no… but—_!"

"It'd be best if we keep rational about it." He felt so stiff and formal speaking, his words catching in his throat, his exhaustion nearly drawing out his tone. He was being careful and cautious and that might be unraveling his thoughts. He was going stir crazy sitting here, the possibilities cramping inside his head.

" _Kaneki_ ," Mutsuki said softly. " _Hori was just here. She thinks Aogiri is involved_."

"What?" Kaneki bolted upright, causing Hide to reach out. His hand lingered in the air, and Kaneki's eyes traveled sharply to where it had halted abruptly. He then glanced at Hide's face. His friend was staring at the air, all of him distant, all of him dim. It was unlike Hide in more ways than one. "I— Mutsuki, are you okay?"

" _I'm fine_." It was difficult to tell by the boy's tone if he was lying or not. He kept the same gentle cadence for just about anything, and the softness of his words could denote anything from boisterous joy to intense sorrow. " _Urie might not be, though. Kaneki, you know he was a candidate for the Quinx_."

Kaneki inhaled sharply. This again. When would this surgery thing die?

"You guys don't let me forget it," he said darkly. He watched Hide's hand fall. It had been hovering, frozen in time, until just this moment. Kaneki shot him a puzzled look. Hide merely frowned.

" _Kaneki, something is definitely wrong here_." Mutsuki sounded so sure. It was almost too easy to believe Mutsuki over Shirazu, and Kaneki felt guilty for that. " _Hori said that Aogiri is interested in the Painter. We both know Urie isn't exactly careful. I mean, if I'd called and said Shirazu was missing, you'd be here in a heartbeat_."

Kaneki grew defensive, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "That's different," he said heatedly.

" _It is not_ ," Shirazu huffed. " _Damn it, Kanekun, he's my friend! I dragged him into this mess, and I ain't abandonin' him. Not now. Not ever._ "

His words hit uncomfortably close to home. Kaneki found himself glancing uncertainly at Hide's face. Like before, it was distant and dazed. Hide seemed lost in thought.

Kaneki stood up and walked to the kitchen.

"I'll see if I can ask around," he murmured. "But that's it, okay? Don't go out looking for him. Don't contact his father. Don't breathe a _word_ of this to anyone else, you hear me?"

" _Why can't we help_?" Shirazu sounded so offended, and Kaneki understood why, but he couldn't help but feel frustrated. Like they were so much younger, like he was speaking to a toddler and not a teenager. It made him feel guilty after he caught himself thinking some condescending thoughts.

"I don't need you two calling attention to yourselves," Kaneki said sternly, "or aggravating the situation further. You've already done enough, Shirazu. Lay low and let me do the talking. Okay?"

" _Are ya kidding_?" Shirazu all but screeched.

" _Thank you, Kaneki_ ," Mutsuki gasped. Kaneki didn't need to see these kids to know Mutsuki had held Shirazu back from doing _something_. " _We'll see you soon, okay_?"

The line went dead almost too fast to think. Kaneki held the phone limply, and then glanced at it.

He hurled it at the wall.

Or at least he _imagined_ he hurled it at the wall. In his eyes, he could see the glass screen shattering, glittering shards bouncing off the tile wall and skittering across the countertop. He saw it popping out of its case, a scar fracturing its face and causing the image on the screen to flicker uselessly before it finally put itself to rest.

He set the phone down gently on the counter and backed away from it, his ideations swirling madly in his head. His fingernails bit holes into his palms.

In his ideations, he threw a chair and it splintered against the cabinets. He threw the television and it bounced and cracked and crumpled. He threw a laptop and it split apart, its circuit-board guts falling upon the floor.

In his ideations, he was angry and he was powerful and he was king.

In his ideations, he had no fear. He had no pain. He had no guilt.

In his ideations, he could get to Kanou, wrap his fists around his throat, and squeeze the life from him.

Fuck ideations.

Why wasn't Kaneki doing that right now?

"Fuck," Kaneki said. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to fight someone. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted, and it just wasn't fair! Wanting to be something he knew he was not, something he knew he had been, something that wasn't even real now. He didn't know how to make this right. He didn't know who he was anymore.

"Is everything okay?" Hide had appeared in the doorway, looking less dazed and more concerned. Kaneki looked at him, his fists clenched at his sides, his body hunched, his expression strained.

"Hell no," he said, backing up into the counter and burying his face in his hands. "God… this is a mess. This is a fucking mess!"

"Hey…" Hide approached him slowly, his footsteps evenly paced. "Dude, it's going to be okay. You know that, right?"

"I don't want to talk about this right now." Kaneki took a deep breath. Talking about his problems with Hide would be disastrous. He was one breakdown away from sobbing out all the juicy details of Hide's would-be death. _I ate you! I was weak, I was wrong, and you're dead for it! Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me!_

"Okay then."

Kaneki drew his hands down his face, and he searched Hide's face. Though he'd shrugged off the dazed look, there was still something off about him. His eyes were dim and unfocused. His smile was tight and weary. His hair hadn't been dyed in weeks— maybe even months— and it was more black than blonde.

"Tell me about you," Kaneki said. The words came out of his mouth before he could really stop them. "What's happening in your life right now?"

Hide blinked, clearly shocked by this sudden interest in his personal affairs. His tight smile fell crooked, and he laughed. "Dude, you know I've got nothing on you," he said.

"I don't care. Tell me anyway."

Hide's eyes softened. He shrugged, and he hopped up onto the countertop beside Kaneki. " _Well_ ," he started brightly, "where to start?"

* * *

Urie spent approximately two days recuperating in that tiny room. Two days that he could have spent doing literally anything else. He was getting anxious and antsy and all around abysmal to speak to. He'd been thinking of excuses, turning over apologies in his head for when he saw his father next.

Nothing seemed to stick.

He was compromised, emotionally and logically, finding that he couldn't reconcile his feelings of guilt with being _wrong_. The truth was he didn't really feel guilty at all for helping ghouls. He felt guilty for being a shitty son, though.

Hinami popped in regularly to give him food and pain medication, often sitting down to chat with him for a little while. She wasn't the best company, and Urie caught himself thinking some rather mean thoughts more than once, but he was glad to have someone at least. That Ayato kid hardly ever came around.

 _Are they keeping me here so I don't tell anyone they're here?_ He found himself limping toward the window, peering out into the street curiously. _So little faith. They saved my life, I'm not going to just hand them over to the CCG._

Though… not so long ago he might have. No, he definitely would have. Their fears were not exactly unprompted. They had every reason not to trust him.

He just wished they would let him out so he could make sure his father didn't set up a full scale man hunt for him.

He stood for a while surveying the street below before he realized something crucial.

He knew where he was.

It wasn't as alarming as one might think, to realize how _easily_ he could just walk out of here. He'd had an inkling that escape wasn't so far fetched as he liked to imagine. It had been a long few days, and in that time he'd concocted elaborate and daring dreams of achieving freedom without bringing harm to everyone around him. None of these thoughts had been anything resembling factual, but they were fun to imagine.

Too bad his leg was still fucked up.

Trying to imagine himself hobbling through the apartment and down the steps to the coffee shop below was comedic at best. At worst, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

So he sat around for awhile, contemplating just how fucked he was.

Hinami came strolling in, and her eyes lit up when he stood to take the tray from her.

"You can walk!" she gasped, looking delighted as he sat back down on the bed.

"Yeah," he said dully, "I'm a real miracle."

"It's healed then?" She blinked curiously at him, her tawny gaze flashing from his face to his leg. He looked up from the watery bowl of soup she'd provided him with.

"You really don't get how humans work," he remarked.

She flushed deeply, but gave no other indication that his words bothered her. "I'm sorry it's been this way," she said somberly.

"Yeah?" Urie took the spoon that had been resting in the bowl he'd been given, stirring the soup around idly.

Hinami watched him miserably, her expression muted and forlorn as she hovered near him.

"I'm stuck here too," she admitted.

He looked up at her, stunned for a moment by her declaration. But suddenly her behavior and steady presence here made much more sense. He studied her face, studied her clothing, and he set the bowl down on the bedside table cautiously.

"You're the daughter ghoul," he said. In response, she took a large step back. It wasn't so much out of shock as it was out of fear and caution. He couldn't blame her for that. It didn't make him any less bitter about his situation, though. _Isn't she jumpy_ , he thought irritably. "Relax. I won't turn you in."

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, her eyes lowering toward the floor. "Why?" she whispered.

Urie wanted to make her elaborate. The question was so vague, he _shouldn't_ know what she was asking.

But he did.

He looked down at his hands. He was tired, and his muscles were stiff, and the pain in his leg was vicious even with the hefty dose of pain killers prescribed to him. Why? Why was he doing this?

Why did he care about ghouls?

"The world's not as black and white as I once thought," he said. He picked up the bowl of soup and rested it on his knee. "Simple as that."

Hinami's honeyed eyes seemed to stick to his face, unimpressed with his "simple" reply. "Can people change so quickly?" she asked. "So fundamentally?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

He couldn't respond. His thoughts were a flurry of bitter rage and ugly doubts. He didn't know. How could he know? He had done this on a whim, done what his gut had told him, and every time he acted on instinct something went horribly wrong. He couldn't know. Knowing was above him. He was fumbling through the dark, hoping he didn't step on a pitfall.

Hinami's stare, honey glaze and hopeless, fell away from him like a leaf falling from a tree. Her disappointment was palpable. Their conversations, every single one, had fallen flat like this. She would never get the answer she wanted, and she had come to that conclusion.

 _Good_ , he thought, spooning loose broth into his mouth. _Damn your expectations. I may not be your enemy, but I'm not your friend either._

Hinami took a deep breath.

"You may not actually grasp," she said, her small hands closing into fists at her sides, "the immensity of what you're doing. But you should know what it means. To us. To me. To be a ghoul is to be wrong, and to know that you are wrong, that you were made wrong. You've made us feel like we can be ourselves without shame for once."

Urie blinked at her, mutely processing her words and trying to connect it to himself. He didn't think himself anything special. He just liked to paint, and he happened to not hate ghouls. How had that somehow glorified him in the eyes of this poor girl?

"Oh," he said.

She watched him. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and marched out.

He would be happy if he could understand them. Even just for a moment.

 _How am I supposed to help these people,_ he thought, _if I don't understand them?_

Man, being some sort of savior was really tough work.

He set the soup aside, his appetite dwindling, and he wondered if he was even capable of being anything more than what society had made of him. It was hard not to judge ghouls, and even harder not to fear them. He had been conditioned from as far back as he could possibly recall to believe that ghouls were _monsters_.

So what was he doing here? What was he trying to accomplish? With the murals? With the rebellious streak? With befriending a known and wanted ghoul?

Curling up on the bed, thinking so very philosophically, made him want to die a little bit. He was so confused about the morality of it all, and he understood the implications of his role. He _wasn't_ a savior, even if he wished he was, and he _wasn't_ the leader even if he wanted to be, and he _wasn't_ going to win any sort of praise because he was on the losing side of a fight.

He wished Shirazu were here. Shirazu always made it all sound so daring and selfless.

He'd been nodding off in the dim room, nightfall casting eerie shadows across the floor, when the creak of metal awoke him. It was a distinct sound, footsteps weighing against steel stairs. He sat up, blinking wildly from the door to the window.

He jumped when a pair of shadowy hands glided like puppets cast against a wall, and lifted the window up with a startlingly _soft_ sound. He froze, wondering if maybe the room was dark enough that the intruder would not notice his bulky silhouette. He tricked himself into believing it was, if only to soothe his own hyperactive fears.

A small, slender figure slipped through the open window and gracefully stepped down. Their head swiveled, a smooth face turning toward Urie. His breath caught in his throat. Their mask was pale and silvery and _familiar_ in this darkness.

"You," he breathed.

The ghoul stood, body locked in a defensive position as they drank in the situation. Their fingers dipped forward as the spell slowly broke, and a small lamp on the desk clicked as it bathed the room in a cool light.

He was overwhelmed as she took a step back in alarm. " _You_?" she blurted. She watched him, her eyes shadowed by the cowl of her mask, but he sensed her confusion. It was as deep and dissatisfying as his own.

For this was the ghoul that had saved him at Aogiri.

This was Touka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> graphice [adv].  
> in the manner of a painter; vividly; graphically.  
> (colloquial) perfectly, properly, thoroughly.


	44. profuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story was kind of on an unofficial hiatus, but now i'm putting it on an official hiatus. don't try to talk to me about the new chapter of the manga, it has nothing to do with my story. i'm just trying to get this done so i don't have to deal with this bullshit anymore. updates will happen when they happen. i'm in school, so you know, i'm trying my best.
> 
> enjoy.

"— suspected kidnapping of Urie Kuki—"

After an hour of pedantic droning, the meeting finally got to the meat of it. Kaneki dropped his highlighter from his mouth into his hand and leaned forward. Amon's eyes followed him astutely.

It had been four days. After Mutsuki had gotten ahold of Kaneki, the severity of the situation had come spilling out. Urie was missing, Aogiri was the main suspect, and Urie's father was running wild in what could be understandable paranoia if it wasn't bordering on a witch hunt with the Quinx getting the brutal end of the stick.

Worst of all, Touka had gone dark. She'd missed her checkpoint a few nights ago, and there was a general unease among the higher ups that Kaneki had not witnessed firsthand, but had _sensed_ in the way they spoke softly directly into one another's ears whenever Kaneki walked into a room. He'd been asked immediately if he'd had contact with her, and Kaneki had been truthful. They had not spoken in weeks. Months, more likely.

This was not looking good.

"What evidence do we have," Kaneki said, tapping the end of his highlighter against the gray table, "that Aogiri is even involved in this?"

"You were the one who suggested Aogiri was investigating the Quinx program," Shinohara pointed out.

 _Yeah,_ Kaneki thought glumly. _But now Hori is saying it's probably not Aogiri, so we're all out of luck._

Beside him, Shirazu was gnawing anxiously on his pen, much like Kaneki had been at his highlighter. Except unlike Kaneki, he had several pages full of notes from the last hour or so.

"If it ain't Aogiri," Shirazu piped up, his voice vaguely muffled by his pen, "could it be some other hyped up organization?"

"Like what?" Akira asked him. She seemed genuinely curious, her sharp brows puncturing her hairline. "The Ghoul Restaurant? Well, I'd hardly strike it off the list, but Urie Kuki was the son of an investigator. He wouldn't be lured into a trap like that."

Kaneki licked his lips and bit his tongue. Akira was logical almost to a fault, and Urie had some of those qualities within him, but he also had one other tragic flaw.

He was ruled by emotion. Whether he liked it out not, whatever drove him forward was passion and determination, and stone cold logic took the backseat on this ride.

The truth was, he was almost scared to find out what had happened to the boy.

"I'm just sayin'," Shirazu exhaled, "that we gotta look at other options. We really _don't_ got any proof that Aogiri has him."

"We have teams investigating just that," Hoji said.

"Isn't there a flaw in the Aogiri theory?" Seidou cut in. All eyes adjusted, moving to his face expectantly. "Urie's eligibility for the Quinx surgery should be confidential. How could Aogiri know about that?"

The room was oddly silent. Kaneki felt Amon and Shinohara immediately shift their gaze to him, gears turning to fast that he could _hear_ their assumptive thoughts.

"It's really not that hard to get records out of the junior academies," Kaneki said bluntly.

That caught just about everyone's attention.

Amon especially glared at him.

"Speaking from past experience?" Seidou lightly questioned, a playful smirk on his lips. Akira watched with her catlike eyes, pale and piercing as they clued in to the implications of Kaneki's words.

"Yes, actually," he said. Seidou's face fell.

"Oh, Kaneki…" Shinohara sighed, dragging his hand down his face.

"How'd you do it?" Suzuya quipped. They'd been sitting at the end of the table and tipping their chair back idly until now, their soupy red eyes consistently on the clock.

Kaneki smiled at them. "I just distracted the guy at the desk and then stole the files I wanted when he was out of the room."

Suzuya smirked. Shinohara groaned. Seidou's eyes were large and uncertain, falling to his hands as he tried to reassess the situation. Akira merely watched him with eyes that could cut steel and a posture that could withstand an earthquake.

Amon just looked at him.

"Kaneki's criminal behavior aside," Shinohara sighed, pinching his eyes tiredly, "given our current theory that Aogiri is working with Kanou, it's best if we can minimize the progress they can even possibly make. Urie Kuki might not be a Quinx, but his potential to be a Quinx makes him dangerous. We must find him."

Shirazu shrunk in his seat. This was very hard for him. Kaneki had vowed to bring Urie back, but the truth was that he thought it might be an empty promise. Urie's disappearance was a mystery. He could very well have vanished under normal circumstances, instead of the abnormal ghoul inference they were all suspecting.

"What about the witness?" Akira asked, delicately plucking a paper from the file before her and glancing it over. "Hori Chie?"

"Non-threatening," Shinohara confirmed. "Human. Gave us more information than we could have hoped, and offered to give us more if she got any. We can call her in for a follow up interrogation, if that will ease your mind, Rank 2."

Akira frowned, and she set the paper down. Her long fingers drummed against the table idly, a low reflection of Kaneki's heartbeat. He didn't like the idea of Chie involving herself with the CCG. She was too close to Tsukiyama and the Painter.

"What if he's just plain dead?" Suzuya asked suddenly. All eyes flickered to the odd investigator's childlike face. They had their face in their hands, their dull eyes gazing dreamily at the ceiling.

"He ain't," Shirazu said firmly.

Suzuya's eyes, ruby red and foggy to the brim, slid with a vicious grudge toward Shirazu's face. Kaneki's muscles tensed, instinctively inching closer to Shirazu.

"You don't know that," Suzuya said. "I bet he's all twisted up in a garbage bag somewhere. Bet someone'll saw his limbs off and stick 'em under the floor. Bet—!"

" _Enough_." Kaneki's voice struck the room like a thunderclap. Suzuya looked at him, unfazed, but sunk into their seat impudently. They puffed out their cheeks and glowered at the ceiling.

Beside him, Shirazu shook like a leaf. Suzuya had a way with commanding a presence despite their stature and youthful appearance. They had strung Shirazu along on their parade of ugly imagery, stitching him to their gruesome tale and taking him on a ride of despair and anxiety. Kaneki took his shoulder gently.

"Do you need a minute?" he murmured. Shirazu shook his head furiously. He looked green.

"You seem rather fond of Urie," Akira stated, "Rank 3 Shirazu."

Shirazu swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing. "He's… a very dear friend," he said quietly.

"Funny," she said, her sharp eyes lowered at her file. "When asked about you, Special Class Investigator Urie said you hardly spoke. You were just schoolmates, once upon a time."

If possible, Shirazu grew paler.

"I…" He bowed his head pitifully. "I— I know. Mr. Urie, he didn't like me hangin' around Kuki. He didn't really know we were friends."

"Why?" Akira's eyes, clever and piercing, met Shirazu's.

Shirazu exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Because he thinks I'm a _ghoul_ ," he snapped. "Kuki says the whole idea of the Quinx makes his dad nuts! Like that it's unethical and dangerous, or whatever. He's scared that by hangin' around me, Kuki might actually want to join the project. He thinks that just by being around me Kuki would be in danger, and ya know what? He wasn't wrong."

Kaneki's eyes widened. He squeezed Shirazu's shoulder gently, but the boy shrugged him off. He stood up, his chair screeching in protest and nearly toppling onto the floor as he marched out of the room. Instinctively, Kaneki stood up.

"Let him go," someone said. Kaneki wasn't sure who, because his mind was reeling. Shirazu anger and disgust was palpable, seeping through the walls and coagulating in the tile grout. What could he do?

Every bit of him wanted to say fuck it. Every part of him was tensed up, ready to bolt after that boy, ready to take both his shoulders and pull him into a hug.

But it was just a fantasy. And Kaneki was just a man.

How hard it was, to love a child and to let it grow.

* * *

Leather was stifling.

Helpless to the mercurial moods of the summer season, he resigned himself to wading in air on this summer evening. Beads of sweat had materialized on the inside of his mask. His upper lip was moist, sour from the humidity. His uncovered eye scanned over traffic patterns, flitting relentlessly from face to face. Below him was a landscape of asphalt and dark hair, moving blocks zipping from point A to point B. He saw them in his head, and he pushed them away. He needed something better. He needed something recognizable.

A face registered, like a key lining up pressure points, like cogs aligning and a clock ticking. He lifted himself from the building's edge, and he slipped precariously onto a metal rail. Senses heightened, he braced himself for the fall.

He caught his target by the neck, arm slung around him and dragging him back as a dagger dipped precariously toward his cheek. His hand clamped over his target's mouth so no scream could escape it.

"Hello," he said. His voice was dim and casual, like the man behind the glass of a tollbooth. "Remember me?"

The man's eyes flew wide as he peered up at Mutsuki's masked face. Then to his eye. Recognition glimmered there.

Mutsuki kicked the back of his knees and flung him against the wall. He stumbled, his hands grappling wildly for something to brace his fall. His knees cracked against the pavement.

"Oh my," said the man, whose eyes were painted expertly and whose lips were lightly glossed. "The ghoul dove himself! To what do I owe _this_ pleasure?"

"Cut the shit," Mutsuki said, crouching down onto the balls of his feet and drawing his knife into the distance between their faces. "I know you're with Aogiri."

"Me?" the man said, feigning shock with the tips of his fingers pressed defensively to his chest. "Part of that lot? Oh no, sir, you've read me so wrong!"

"You were with them," Mutsuki said flatly. "You were with _Yamori_. You're Aogiri. And I'm taking you in."

"Oh, sweet boy," the man cooed. "You really think you have the balls?"

Mutsuki bit his tongue. He could feel a defiant flush burning his cheeks, the mingling fury and embarrassment overcoming him. He moved with the speed of a viper, his wrist flicking at breakneck speed and a peculiar red line gracing the ghoul's features without warning. Blood began to pool, bubbling up against the line and forming rivulets on his cheek.

"Sweet boy," the man murmured, his tongue sliding out of his glossed lips to touch the pooling blood. "Are you kidding with this game?"

"Don't," Mutsuki hissed, another dagger sliding from within his sleeve and puncturing the tender flesh of his larynx. "Do you think I'm playing? I don't have the time to play games with you. You will shut your goddamn mouth until I tell you to speak, or so help me I'll cut your tongue out and we can continue this little chat once it regrows. In a cell."

Mutsuki was usually not one to threaten. Usually, as of late, he simply acted without much tongue and cheek banter between himself and the enemy. He did his job as neatly as possible without much to say for it. Did it make him feel bad? Sure. He felt bad about it all the time.

Fear had made him, so god willing Fear became him.

This case was something particular though. This wasn't some ghoul he was chasing out of a file, not a random act of violence he could wash his hands of later with some quick coping mechanisms. This ghoul had been there. He had been complicit in his torture. This ghoul had information, and he was more useful alive.

When it came to negotiations, Mutsuki was never the one to talk. He usually stammered and balked, allowing the ghoul to take advantage of his meek nature. Usually Kaneki's surety or Shirazu's spontaneity took over. There was no need for Mutsuki to use his voice.

Right now, though, his patience was wearing thin.

This ghoul was smart enough to know a ruthless man when he saw one, and kept silent. He glared almost impudently, as though Mutsuki had inconvenienced him in some way.

"Good." Mutsuki cocked his head. Kaneki's mask shielded his relief, thankfully, which would be a sign of weakness that he could not afford to let show. "Let's start small."

There could have been any number of reasons why the ghoul did not fight back. As Mutsuki questioned the ghoul, it became apparent it was because he had been telling the truth. He really knew very little about Aogiri, and had no idea what their current operations entailed. That was a miserable discovery for Mutsuki, who had been hoping for even just a hint that Aogiri might have Urie.

"Starting small" seemed to mean going nowhere. And Mutsuki was growing impatient.

"This is getting me nowhere," he murmured, lifting the knife from the ghoul's throat.

"Yes," they said, "I thought I made it quite clear. I don't know anything!"

 _Where is this getting me?_ He thought he'd had a plan, but he'd mucked it all up the moment he started doubting that this ghoul was the answer. That Aogiri was the answer. What was he doing? Was there a point to this? Was Aogiri really responsible?

Was Mutsuki just dredging for the explanation he wanted, and damning all other evidence?

Yes. He was. He was _aware_ of it on some level, that he was being irrational, that cutting up this ghoul and threatening to kill him if he didn't speak, that it was wrong in a multitude of ways. The most alarming thing was probably that he did not care as much as he thought he would, even as he became more accustomed to the thought that maybe he was torturing the wrong person.

That was scary.

He needed to back off.

 _I have to,_ he thought, fingers cramping against the grip of his daggers. _I have to stop._

And he did. But only with a grand amount of effort and restraint. He had to push the ghoul away from him, whirling away once they hit the wall and inhaling deeply.

Fear. It had consumed him so utterly that he could not run from it. He could not escape it. If he did not feel fear, then by god he would create it.

Disgusting.

Part of him had been determined to take the ghoul in. Part of him wanted so badly to drag the ghoul back to headquarters.

Hunting ghouls for prey was not how he did things. It was not a human trait.

And he was still human. He was still human, wasn't he?

Fear trickled through him, the first time that day even a pin prick of terror had bled through the tough membrane of determination that he had shrouded himself with. He had been careful, he had been thorough, he had asked all the right questions, made sure not to be too rough, and it had gotten him nothing. Essentially, he had failed, and that was what he was focusing on. His failure. Not his unnerving lack of empathy or morality in this instance.

He couldn't take the ghoul in because, frankly, he could not stay here any longer.

So he bolted.

Running was usually so easy. Right now, he wasn't so sure. The smallest bite of fear had nipped at his heels and sent him fleeing. He wasn't _brave_. He wasn't _kind_. He wasn't anything worth anything, and yet—!

He entered a subway bathroom, tearing the mask from his face and taking deep breaths. His skin glistened, his kakugan gleaming with its own intelligence, knowing as it should not, doing as it should not. He was strung up by his own fear, by his own hubris. What could he do?

Mutsuki scraped up his hair, smoothing it away from his face and taking deep, unsteady breaths. He knew who he was. He knew who he was.

He knew who he was. If that mattered at all, maybe he would be okay in the end.

But he could feel his resolve fracturing.

The fissures were staring him in the face, and he had no glue, no cement, not even a goddamn bandaid to patch it.

 _I was tortured,_ he thought, _I was freed. Now I hunt Aogiri, and I make excuses._

"Is this really about Urie?" he asked his reflection, his voice a whisper in the dim, in the grimy, in the claustrophobic space from here to there.

Mutsuki did not know Urie. Not well.

They had met a few times. Urie had been cold. Shut off. Like an automaton whose key had not been wound up enough. Shirazu had spoken mostly, for the three of them, for himself, for nothing at all. Mutsuki did not blame him for not realizing that Mutsuki and Urie did not seem to have any sort of compatibility.

The truth was, Mutsuki felt like he had something to prove.

Everyone— _everyone_! They all acted like he was broken, that he was damaged, that he had been tainted somehow, and that it showed. Like he wore his trauma on his cheek, like they could see the dried tracks of tears that he had shed. They acted like he could not handle this. Therapy had taught him that being a victim did not mean that he had lost control forever. In fact, he had regained control quite quickly if all things were to be considered in a fair light. He had killed his torturer, he had owned his identity, and he had escaped his prison with mostly himself to thank.

And yet!

Why the fuck did everyone think he was going to shatter if he was pushed too hard?

Tears of shame burned his eyes. It wasn't true. He wasn't fragile. He wasn't broken. He wasn't cruel or ugly now, not any more than he had been before.

He was who he was, and he was so fucking sick of trying to prove it.

Smudging the stray tears, crumpling the white leather in his fists, he tried to look toward a brighter side. Aogiri might not have Urie.

The door of the bathroom shifted open, causing Mutsuki to crumple the mask close to his stomach in some bare attempt to keep it hidden. His eyes were puffy as he glanced at his reflection, and he pressed his lips together thinly.

He watched as a familiar face popped up behind him in the mirror.

"Cute mask," Suzuya quipped, a lollipop stick wobbling at the corner of their mouth.

Mutsuki turned to look at them, his brow knitted and his eyes searching their face inquisitively. They merely stuffed their hands in the pockets of their baggy trousers and stared blankly at the mirror.

"What are you doing here?" Mutsuki blurted.

"Um, I was following you?" Suzuya rolled their eyes. The plucked the lollipop from their mouth and turned toward the door. "Duh."

Mutsuki's eyes trailed after them, bewildered and a bit put off by their words. Then he was sickened, recalling his failure with the ghoul from earlier. Had Suzuya really seen all of that?

They paused at the door, and their head fell gently back to gaze at Mutsuki expectantly. "Well?" They watched him eerily, red eyes glazed and cast toward something beyond Mutsuki's face. "You coming?"

Mutsuki knew Suzuya. They were friends of sorts, sparring at times, sitting together during meetings, sharing quinque and experiences that had molded them. They didn't chat so much as they seemed to be magnetically drawn to one another. They never disclosed the details of why they were the way they were, and at this point they didn't have to. Mutsuki understood Suzuya fundamentally. Suzuya understood Mutsuki in their own way. There was no need for full disclosure.

Friendship wasn't always like that. To be close was to feel close, not to intimately know every aspect of a person.

Trust was a part of friendship too. A part of friendship that Mutsuki wasn't so good at.

He followed Suzuya out of the station and up into the street, the summer air growing thick in light of an imminent storm. The acidity was palpable, and the humidity strung beads of sweat beneath the layers of clothes he wore.

Suzuya walked with a surety. They knew where they were going, or maybe they were acting like they knew. It didn't really matter. Mutsuki would follow, because that was what Mutsuki did best.

They stopped at a park bench, stepping onto it and lowering themself into a crouch. Their glassy eyes met Mutsuki's curiously.

"You know," they said, "I've heard people call you creepy?"

Mutsuki swallowed thickly, his tongue dry and scratchy against the roof of his mouth. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Suzuya dropped their legs and swung their head back. "I don't really see it."

Mutsuki stood mutely, mulling over their words and trying to grasp what his friend was implying. That Mutsuki wasn't creepy, or that Suzuya was merely different from everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Their eyes flashed to Mutsuki's face. "Why didn't you kill that ghoul?"

As dry as his mouth had been, he felt it fill with sand. All moisture seemed to leave him, entering the air and rising up toward the sky— rain in reverse.

"Why were you following me?" Mutsuki retorted. It wasn't a strong retort. He heard his voice, a shakiness swaying him like a leave against wind.

"I saw you," they said simply, "and I wanted to know what you were up to. You know? But like, you could have killed that ghoul, and you just… didn't."

Morality was something he and Suzuya did not often discuss. Mostly because they did not see eye to eye on a number of stances, and frankly Mutsuki didn't have the energy to think about how cold blooded Suzuya was.

 _Why,_ he thought numbly, _does it even have to matter? Why can't you leave it alone?_

It was a curse. Friendship, that is.

Nothing could be won by the idle talks, the brief wash of comfort, the constant anxiety that leapt and bent and curled like light rays around any obstacle.

"Suzuya," Mutsuki said, "do you think I'm a bad person?"

Suzuya raised their head, blinking up at him bemusedly.

"What?" they said.

"Me." Mutsuki sat down beside them, hands clenched in his lap. He stared ahead, into the road, beyond the expanse of buildings and into some bleak corner of an alley far beyond his sight. He was losing himself in it. Life and light and love and loss, all that loneliness between, and all that listless wonderings, wanderings, waverings—

Let it end.

"You," Suzuya repeated, their voice bright and burning. "You, you, you. Tooru… do _you_ think you're bad?"

Mutsuki turned his eyes away from whatever chasm he had found squeezed between skyscrapers. He focused on Suzuya's youthful face, round and smooth and free of blemishes. They were young in a way that Mutsuki did not quite understand, but maybe he could begin to.

"I don't know," he said. It was faint, his words, a whisper, or a plea, or— or—

Or it was a cry for help. Maybe. Truly. Who knew, really?

Suzuya smiled. Their eyes were rusty, their expression wry and witty, and they smiled because they didn't know the pang of self-hatred.

Youth. Where did it go?

"You aren't bad," they said simply.

"Suzuya," he said. Yes, it was just as faint as it had been. Yes, he spoke like he was speaking to the cold granite of a mausoleum. Yes, he knew what he said, he knew what he spoke, he knew who was listening, and it did not matter. He was sick of himself and this, and that, and the in-betweens. "Suzuya, I don't think you know what bad is."

They blinked at him. Their smile, pure as Eden, melted like their tongue had met something sour.

Suzuya could choke on the apple if that meant being free from this madness.

"What do you mean?" They leaned forward, arms between their legs.

The reason why Mutsuki tolerated Suzuya's behavior is because he knew. They didn't know. They didn't get it. They were the essence of amorality, innocent of the sway of good and evil. Simply acting without thought, without care, like a child would.

If you don't teach a child to feel shame, is this what they become?

On opposite spectrums Mutsuki and Suzuya lay, one brimming with overwhelming shame, one unable to spare a drop.

Did he do it?

Did he hand Suzuya the apple?

Open their eyes?

Tabula rasa all throughout. They were blank, inside and out. No name, no face, family, no gender, no sexuality, no guilt, no care in the world.

He could end that.

He could taint that.

So. Why didn't he?

"Tooru," Suzuya said, their brow knitting together, "what do you mean? Tooru?"

And with all the ignorance of a child, Suzuya laid their hand over Mutsuki's.

What Mutsuki forgot was that there was no Eve inside him. There never had been.

So. Here was the truth.

Suzuya's hand was small and callused, cold and bumpy from recreational stitches imbedded there. Their touch was limp, a dispassionate hold that suggested they did not understand what they were doing. Suzuya had learned this through sight, through experience, but clearly did not know how to replicate the emotion behind it.

Tabula rasa. This kid was nothing more. Nothing less.

But god, were they trying.

"Tooru," Suzuya whined. "Tooru, come on, say something!"

Mutsuki blinked.

Right.

He was still here.

"Thank you," he told Suzuya earnestly, looking into their gauzy red eyes. Always on the edge of sleep. They watched him back mutely. "I have to go. Thank you, though."

He took Suzuya's hand in both of his squeezed it tightly. His feelings were genuine, and even Suzuya could see that, their eyes widening a bit.

"But," Suzuya said weakly, "I haven't done anything."

Mutsuki smiled at Suzuya, holding onto their hand maybe a little longer than he had to before rising to his feet and letting it slip through his fingers.

And with that, he set out.

As it happened, he had work to do.

* * *

This week had been, quite frankly, fucking weird.

First of all he'd saved some dove's child, which was annoying as hell. Second of all, that dove's child was sleeping in his bed, which was even more annoying, and also scary. Third, his goddamn sister had reappeared at some point, immediately left again, and now Ayato had to pretend he wasn't utterly heartbroken about it.

Like, he had a rep, you know? He wasn't going to cry just because Touka had spent like an hour talking to Urie before bolting.

Without even a fucking hello.

He was fine. Really.

Urie wasn't exactly happy about any of this either.

"I can't believe _she_ is your sister," Urie admitted glumly the morning after Touka's appearance and consequent disappearance.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ayato had snapped. Hinami had been sitting between them, fixing Urie's bandage. Her eyes had met his briskly, a reprimand in her gaze.

Urie, who had hobbled out of Ayato's room himself that morning, looked particularly melancholy. He didn't even react to Ayato's brusque reply.

"That girl," he said, his voice filled with begrudging respect. "She saved my life once. A few months ago. What is with you guys, anyway? You both knew my dad was an investigator, and you still did it."

"She saved you," Ayato had said flatly.

Thinking back on Touka's behavior when they had been in Aogiri together, and connecting this new information to the fact that she had been a spy… everything was starting to make sense.

Urie looked up at him, and for the first time Ayato thought they were looking at each other and seeing the other for what they were.

From the beginning— from the moment Ayato had spotted this boy on the scaffold, there had never been an ounce of fear between them.

Challenge? Yes.

Prejudice? Hell yes.

But fear did not define them. They were stubborn, and they were brave, and Ayato thought they were fundamentally alike in a way that made him wonder.

Could humans and ghouls coexist? For real?

"She told me she didn't believe me," Urie had said. "That you saved me."

Ayato couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised by that.

Lack of surprise did not make it hurt any less.

Now the tension was rising. Now Urie was hobbling along on his own, rising from his bed to the kitchen and back without any assistance. Now they all knew, you know, that there was an inevitability of facing the repercussions of saving him.

They didn't want to talk about it.

It wasn't until Ayato had been called to see Yoshimura that the issue was finally addressed.

He'd been expecting the usual. Yoshimura liked to drink coffee with him and discuss the possibilities of his future. And, yeah, part of Ayato really liked them too.

It was nice to have hope. Yoshimura gave him that so gladly.

So when Ayato had stepped into Yoshimura's apartment, he had been expecting the usual. Windows open, tongues of sunrays licking the intricately woven rug beneath the coffee table, fine china glinting behind glass doors, the scent of stale cigarette smoke and coffee beans caking the air. It was so lovingly old, this apartment, not in age but in ambiance.

What he got was his shitty sister sitting stoically beside the manager.

And seeing her… it was as overwhelming as he had expected, but for reasons he could not explain.

Instead of unfathomably anger, he was filled with unparalleled sadness. The kind that bled into your heart and left stains in your arteries. He couldn't wash it away. Time could not fade it. He would be miserable forever.

She looked different. Her eyes were swollen, sunken, exhaustion framing the fiery pits of them. She'd gotten paler too, not just her complexion but her hair, her clothing even, seemed to have been bled of all color. Washed out and bleached, left with shades of white and gray. The roots of her hair poked through the steely mess of waves that her hair had become. It didn't even frame her eye any longer. It just feel in limp gray waves against her cheek, against her chin.

It reminded him, with a sudden dread, of Yomo.

"What the hell?" he blurted.

"Ayato," Yoshimura said gently. "Please sit down. We have a lot to talk about."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Touka's eyes averted. She sunk into her seat.

Yoshimura watched him. There was a look that he gave, not a glare or a glower, but something that suggested that Ayato should sit down.

Not that Ayato cared.

"Ayato," Yoshimura sighed. "This has been a long time coming. Don't make it any harder than it has to be."

"It should have never been hard in the first place," Ayato said coolly.

Touka raised her eyes to his, and there was no longer shame swimming there but fire like no other sparking and igniting in a second.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"You know." Ayato folded his arms across his chest. His heart was in his stomach and his brain was in his heart and his eyes were burning very differently from hers. "You know, okay?"

"No, I don't seem to get it." She clenched her fists against her knees. "Are you going to yell at me for leaving? Because fuck you."

"Excuse me?" Ayato's fists shook against his ribs. His words came out as a breath.

Touka jumped to her feet. Yoshimura's eyes fluttered upwards, catching her shadow and blinding him.

"I can't believe you!" Touka's voice was shrill and sharp, cutting through him like a cleaver and leaving him limbless and lifeless and loveless. "You— Goddamn it, Ayato, do you have any idea how much I've sacrificed for you?"

"Unfortunately, no, that detail is a mystery to me," he told her briskly, "because you _weren't there_."

"Touka," Yoshimura murmured. Her face had drained, and just as suddenly turned bright red with rage.

"You _told_ me to leave!" she shouted. "You didn't want me here! You hated me, Ayato! I left because you wanted me gone."

"I don't care!" Ayato heard it in his voice, the threat of breaking, the threat of tears. It scared him. "I really don't give a fuck why you left. You didn't have to. You should have known better, I'm your fucking brother!"

"I left _because_ you are my brother." She dropped back into her seat, slumping deep into the cushion. "Manager, do you have a cigarette on you?"

Yoshimura looked down at her sternly. "I'll be taking that as a joke," he said. "Ayato, are you quite done?"

"Don't get me started," Ayato growled, swerving his gaze toward Yoshimura, "about _you_."

"Oh," Touka murmured, "god, he's not going to stop."

"Shut up," he spat at her. "Anyway, _sir_ , do you even get how fucked up this all is? Like, were you in contact with her this whole time? Fuck this. I'm just gonna let that dove kid go and watch this place burn."

"You mean Urie Kuki," Touka said flatly, "the boy who the CCG is currently jumping through seven different hoops to find?"

"What?" Ayato scoffed. "He's just a kid who ran away, like they'll chill when he resurfaces in a few days and admits that."

"And you think that's just going to work out super," Touka said, "and they won't trace it back to you?"

He stood silently, his jaw clenched shut as her words twisted and turned in his mind. Of course he had thought about it. He'd been thinking about it since Eto had shot the boy down in that alley. But what was he supposed to do?

"If you're so worried about it," he said, "you kill him."

Touka stared at him blankly.

Saying the words, meeting her stare, he realized with a dawning horror that he didn't think he'd be able to let that happen.

What… the… fuck…?

Who was he, anyway?

So Ayato very hesitantly sat down. He bowed his head and breathed deeply.

"I—" he began dimly. Touka's stare, fierce and all knowing, caused his words to die in his mouth.

"I'm not mad at you for saving him," she said gently. "But come on, Ayato— bringing him here? What were you thinking?"

"It was all I could do not to let him bleed out," Ayato grumbled, sinking into a chair. "He also has no idea he's in a coffee shop, like, we're fine."

"He knows exactly where he is, stupid," Touka scoffed. "He can see out the window, he's _been_ to Anteiku before."

"He has?"

Touka sighed, rubbing her eyes exasperatedly. "I talked to him for like five minutes and he told me that." She shook her head, her disappointment palpable. Ayato could melt into the upholstery of this goddamn chair if he were so inclined.

"I think Ayato has been avoiding our guest," Yoshimura said helpfully to Touka, taking a sip of his coffee. Ayato glared at him.

"Oh," Touka said dully. "Of course he is. Kidnap the kid, lock him up, then not talk to him. You'd be a great prison guard, bro."

"Shut up," he said glumly. "Hinami has been keeping him company."

"Hinami is just as much a prisoner here as Urie is," Touka said softly.

Ayato looked up at her, searching her face for some sign of insincerity, but her eyes were cast off toward somewhere he could not see, and he realized how disillusioned she had become. With the idea of home. With the idea of safety. With the idea of ghouls and doves and all that was inbetween.

"What do we do?" Ayato uttered, his voice faint and his heart sinking. "What should we do? Urie… I should have killed him. I shouldn't have brought this onto us."

"No," Touka sighed, pushing her wispy gray hair behind her ears. "You did good, Ayato. You did a good thing."

For some reason, hearing this pseudo-praise from her made his fingers tingle and his face grow warm.

"I agree," Yoshimura said. His old, wizened face stretched out in a kind smile. "Ayato, when you spared Urie you showed something within yourself that scarcely any ghoul I've ever known could have."

Ayato scoffed. "Yeah? And what is that?"

"Compassion," Yoshimura said gently, "mercy, and an incredible amount of will power. He bled all over you, and you didn't think once about eating him."

Ayato leaned back, startled. The thought _hadn't_ crossed his mind to eat Urie. In truth he'd been pretty full, since Anteiku kept him well fed and compliant, but the fact still stood. He really had not even considered the idea that Urie could be food.

"I don't need you to praise me," he said coldly, "for not being hungry, _sir_. What I need is answers. Where have you been, Touka? Why were you even here the other night?"

Touka's expression flickered, alarm and pain flashing in her eyes before she buried it down deeply. She shrugged, as though this meager offering could sate his thirst for the truth.

"You don't need to know what I'm doing," she said.

"Bullshit."

"I'm sorry, Ayato, but I didn't come here to spill my guts to you about my personal life." She leaned forward, pressing her hands against the table diplomatically. "I'm here because we need to fix this Urie problem. Have you even thought about talking to Kaneki about this?"

"That _dove_?" Ayato spat, a chill running through him at the very suggestion. At his _sister's_ suggestion. All his rage and all his hatred pointed at Kaneki seemed to increase readily. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because he can help you!" Touka's expression was schooled and firm. "He can protect you, Ayato. Just let him."

"Well," Ayato said, leaning back in his seat. "Fuck that."

"You're impossible."

"You're deluded," Ayato replied.

"This isn't about Kaneki being a dove," Touka said sharply. "You don't give a fuck about that, obviously, considering the child of a dove is currently upstairs. No, you hate him for an entirely different reason. Tell me why."

"Because he sucks, and he's a dove, like…?" Ayato realized his reasoning had holes in it, and that Touka was seeing right through him.

"Do you hate him because of me?" Touka blinked, sliding her hands from the table and settling back into her chair. "Do you think…? Ayato, it's not like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Touka sat quietly, observing him with eyes cleverer than the last time he had seen them, assessing him by his expression and body language, pulling answers out of his very muscles and deducing what he could not say.

"You can't blame Kaneki for my decisions," she said softly.

"And you can't pretend that he has no influence over you," Ayato snapped back.

Touka didn't look shocked, but he could tell that his words had hit her. She pressed her lips together thinly, a chapped line sliced into her face, and she looked away.

Yoshimura picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee. "Well," he said, peering into his cup. "This has been illuminating, hasn't it? But the boy is still an issue. Ayato, he is your responsibility, so the decision is ultimately up to you. But know the danger here."

"Danger isn't exactly a stranger to me," Ayato replied. "Plus, I think he's sincere. I… trust him."

Touka quirked an eyebrow. "You trust a human," she said, a light little lilt to her voice teasing at him. "You really have grown up. Aww."

"Fuck you," Ayato barked.

Yoshimura turned away to hide what could only be an amused smile. Great. At least this tense exchange was fun to _someone_. God damn.

"Well," Touka said, rising from her seat, "if you trust him so much, then I guess we're done here. You'll let him go when he can walk, and he'll stick to the story that he ran away from home. We hope."

"He'll stick with it."

Touka looked down at him, her tired eyes lined from stress and worry. He'd never seen her look so worn out before, and it didn't settle right with him.

"I trust you," she said gently. "I do. So trust me when I say that Kaneki is not the bad guy."

Ayato inhaled sharply. What was _with_ her fixation on Kaneki Ken? Like, did she really think Ayato cared that fucking much about what that guy did with his days? Nah, man, he just didn't like it when Kaneki's stuck his nose all up in Ayato's business.

"Right," he said flatly. "I'll trust you when you tell me how the fuck you two managed to get dad away from the doves."

Yoshimura's eyebrow arched in a way that Ayato found strangely satisfying. He shot Touka a startled look, a question there that made Touka freeze. She did not look at Ayato directly, and instead opted to bow her head.

"Kaneki's really persuasive," she said.

"Bullshit."

She didn't respond. Instead she stared at the floor, her eyes sullen and weary.

" _Touka_."

"That's enough," she said tiredly. She took a step forward. "That's enough, Ayato. You have the quinque, that's all that matters."

"You think just because you got him back by some fucking miracle—?" Ayato cut himself off as he studied her body language. No. No, she seemed too guilty for this. There was no justice here. "Touka… what the hell did you do?"

She took a deep breath and looked down at him. "Never say I never did anything," she told him, not for the first time.

It clicked.

"You…?" He couldn't quite find the words. _You went to them. You bargained with his killers. You monster._

Her eyes were on his face, searching desperately for an answer to a question she had not asked. When he could not give it to her, she turned her face away and stalked off.

"Touka," Yoshimura objected, rising to his feet. "Wait just a moment, Yomo hasn't arrived yet!"

"Tell him he has to take a fucking number if he wants to talk to me," she called back, her words biting but her tone passionless and cold.

Ayato could only sit mutely, stunned by how callous she had been, stunned by the truth that she had refused to confirm, stunned because of all people… Touka would never…

He supposed it was time to accept that neither of them were the children they wished they could be again.

It hadn't even occurred to him to tell Touka that Yomo was their uncle. He still hadn't quite processed that himself. The package Yomo had given him was still sitting unopened on the kitchen counter. He just couldn't bring himself to open it.

Now that he thought about it, if Yomo was coming then this would be the first time since he had found out that they would be seeing each other.

Suddenly Ayato felt the overwhelming desire to run.

Flight or fight. The Kirishima way.

Yomo wasn't a Kirishima though.

 _My uncle,_ he thought, numb to all else that tried to reason with him. _My mother's brother. Right under my nose the whole fucking time._

After this business with Urie, the idea of facing Yomo Renji wasn't so intimidating.

"Well," Yoshimura sighed, "I suppose that could have gone worse. Are you all right?"

Ayato's throat was dry as he replied. "Yes, sir."

"I'm sorry for surprising you." The old man set a light, reassuring hand on Ayato's shoulder. He nearly jumped, alarmed at the contact, but he decidedly did not shrug it off. After what had just happened, it was nice to feel assured. "I knew if I told you she was here, you'd simply run off. I couldn't take the risk."

Ayato managed a short, bitter smile. "You weren't wrong," he admitted. He glanced up at the old man tiredly. "Hey… do you think I've done the wrong thing?"

"Hm?"

Ayato blinked. His anxiety was getting the better of him, but if even _Touka_ seemed to think saving Urie had been a bad idea— well, he'd certainly fucked up somehow, huh?

"Nothing." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, thinking of all the ways he could avoid talking to Yomo. Avoid talking about Touka to Hinami. Avoid letting Urie go so they didn't have to face the consequences.

Consequences were his worst enemy, it seemed.

"Compassion is never wrong, Ayato." Yoshimura's eyes were closed, his lined old face crumpled from age-old guilt. "Learn it young, and never regret it. Touka has done her fair share of rash and unethical things simply because her moral compass demanded it be so. Don't take her hypocrisy too seriously."

"You're calling her a hypocrite?" he blurted, unable to keep the shock and excitement from bleeding into his voice and face. Usually he was the fuck up of the family. The idea that even Yoshimura could see the wrong in Touka's path— it was exhilarating.

"Well, in a sense." The man patted Ayato on the head, much to his irritation. "Don't dwell on it much."

It was difficult not to dwell on something that had been eating away at him for the better part of the year. He was finding it difficult not to dwell on things that focused on Touka, because she was such a fucking wild card. After all, she had single handedly flipped his life upside-down and forced him to change his world view. If Ayato from a year ago met Ayato now, Ayato now would be diced into little tiny pieces and probably be glad for it.

Self-hatred was sort of a new thing for him. He was sad, and he was bitter, but he couldn't really find any source outside of himself to direct his anger on. So… here he was.

"Why don't you stay?" Yoshimura suggested as Ayato tried to duck out of the room quietly. "Yomo would love to talk to you."

"Yeah," Ayato muttered. "That's kinda what I want to avoid."

Yoshimura smiled sadly. Ayato stood in the doorway, only faintly aware of how cruel he truly was. If Yomo really cared, if he truly loved Ayato and Touka, he would never have kept himself so distant. It wasn't fair that Ayato was expected to welcome him with open arms.

He shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. The world was opening up before him, and he was proud enough that he thought he could turn his back to it. Why was that?

Suddenly Yoshimura stood before him, long fingers closing around his shoulders and pulling him close. For a moment, Ayato could not breathe, and for a moment Ayato was free. He had been so tied up these last few months, the idea that his identity had been so intrinsically tied to his wings that he could not be anyone else without them— it had strangled him. He was only tearing the string away now and seeing the world with clarity.

Part of this had always been about his father.

He could blame his father for leaving, or for being too weak, or for loving too damn much, but the result was the same. He had to deal with that. Could he deal with that?

Touka's words, Touka's tired eyes, Touka's determination to defend humans— she was so much like him, it made him sick.

It made him sick to death. His heart couldn't take much more of this, you know. It was already so small and weak, it might just—

"Please," Ayato whispered, tears stinging his eyes as Yoshimura pressed his wizened hand to the back of Ayato's head. His long, wrinkled fingers got lost in the waves of Ayato's dark hair. "Tell me I'm not wrong. Tell me I've got a right to be angry— to be bitter, to be _sad_ — tell me— am I right? Is this right? Are we right?"

He couldn't find it in himself to sob. It was almost worse that way, because he stood in the doorway, clutching Yoshimura's thin arms and let himself shake and shiver and be held like a child. His pride seemed to die a little bit at a time.

Yoshimura led him back to the couch, holding his shoulders supportively. He took a tissue and gingerly wiped Ayato's face and nose, pushing his scraggly black hair out of his eyes. His fingers were leathery and bony, soft like a baby's but cold like a corpse's. He smelled like tobacco, smoke on his fingertips and peppermint on his sleeve. Underneath all that, he smelled purely of coffee. Ground up or liquefied or just the freshly torn open bag of imported beans. It might have been a comfort if Ayato weren't so damn miserable.

"This isn't fair," he muttered ruefully.

Yoshimura rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades as he took another tissue and beat his nose red.

"You will live your whole life convinced that nothing can ever go right," the old man said softly. "But that is simply life. For humans and for ghouls. We are not lucky creatures, us sentient beings who are cursed to love and to lose. Imagine a world where everything is at peace. How very boring that must be."

Ayato sniffled sharply. "That'll only happen when every goddamn person on earth is wiped from existence, human and ghoul alike."

Yoshimura smiled. "Exactly," he said, his tone rather cheerful. "How very boring. Would you like some coffee?"

"No." Ayato rubbed his nose. It was warm. "Can you tell me I made the right choice?"

"I cannot."

"But you _love_ humans." Ayato looked up at Yoshimura desperately. "I saved one! Shouldn't you like, praise me, or something?"

"I can sing your praises for any number of things, Ayato," Yoshimura said. "Your coffee is superb. You're a passionate and bright young man. You are smart, and you are kind, and you have a big heart that you don't know how to fill."

"But am I _right_?" he dug further, searching Yoshimura's face desperately. But Yoshimura's face was skillfully rendered to remain utterly passive and serene at all times.

"Only time can tell you that," Yoshimura said gently. "Time, and a clear conscience. Don't think little of that."

Ayato closed his eyes. It was not the answer he wanted, but it was the best answer he was going to get.

A creak at the door caused him to jerk upright, a tissue wringing in his white fists. Yomo stood at the door, morose and pale like a gravestone in the dark.

Their eyes locked. Ayato couldn't help but trace the man's features with his eyes, drinking in his bone structure and coloring, and telling himself there was nothing there even when his eyes disagreed. He felt that he could pluck a piece of his own cheek and press it to Yomo's like a puzzle piece. It was unbearable, and it was a truth.

Yoshimura's steady hand pressed gently to his back. Ayato took a deep, shaky breath, and he looked up at Yomo with a dull, watery gaze.

"I think I'm ready to talk now," he murmured.

* * *

He rolled the end of the cigarette between his fingers a few times before bringing it to his mouth. Cicadas whirred ceaselessly around him, beating off the brick building across the street and slithering on the asphalt below and even turning the oxygen and nitrogen and ozone in the atmosphere. With the steady hum of those screaming creatures, who could feel alone?

Shirazu rested his forehead against the warm metal bars of the fire escape. The sun was not beating directly into the alley below, but beads of sweat had accumulated on his forehead and arms. He had his coveralls unbuttoned and wrapped around his waist.

Smoke clouded his vision. He closed his eyes, and he saw red.

Where the hell could he _be_?

Shirazu didn't believe that Urie was dead. He couldn't, for his own sanity, and instead had concocted a thousand and one outrageous tales for what _could_ have happened to him. Whisked away by clowns or stranded on a desert island or abducted by aliens— Urie could be anywhere, but Shirazu refused to believe it was six feet under some fucking ditch.

Neither Chie nor Kaneki had gotten word on whether Aogiri had him or not. That wasn't a good sign, but it wasn't a bad one either. Shirazu didn't want Aogiri to have Urie. Like, hadn't Aogiri already fucked up one of his friends? He wasn't all that into the thought that Urie was getting tortured right now.

Smoke filled up his mouth, and he let his eyes flutter open. A breeze had cut through the alley, kissing his face gently. He hadn't slept in several nights, but he hardly felt it.

Anyway, he was trying not to think about how he'd heard some investigators wondering about the Painter in passing. Like, where he'd gone and stuff. There hadn't been a new mural this week. Maybe they were dead.

Fuck. Shirazu blinked down at this cigarette. It was gone already.

He stamped the butt out on the edge of the fire escape, where it joined its seven dead brothers. He pulled out his box and plucked another from its depths. He'd have to get more soon, if the three that were left were any indication, but he thought he might have a few stashed somewhere in his room.

He rolled it between his fingers, stuck it between his teeth, and he lit it up.

The metal creaked and shifted behind him, soft footsteps shuffling beneath the din of the summery city. Mutsuki sat down at his side, folding his knees and shrugging off his blazer. He was wearing a crisp white short sleeved shirt beneath it.

"Don't let Kaneki catch you with that." Mutsuki waved his hand over the ashtray between them, the wrinkled cigarette butts sticking out like bayonets on a mass grave after a battle.

Shirazu pulled the cigarette from his lips and turned his chin away from Mutsuki so the smoke didn't get in his face. "Fuck it," he said. "Let Kaneki think what he wants."

"You know he's not judging," Mutsuki said gently. "He's just worried. I am too."

"What?" Shirazu looked at him, a little taken aback. "Worried about me? Ya crazy?"

Mutsuki sat very quietly, his hands folded in his lap as he stared at Shirazu pointedly. He winced.

"Wrong word," he muttered, dashing the ash off the side of the fire escape. "Got it. Sorry, man."

"I know you're stressed," Mutsuki said, shifting through the pockets of his blazer and sliding a box of cigarettes across the rusty platform of the fire escape. "But maybe don't smoke this one in a day, okay?"

Shirazu blinked down at the box, and then up at Mutsuki. A disbelieving smile lit up his face. "How'd ya swing this?" he asked.

"Ui."

" _Ui_ ," Shirazu breathed, bringing the cigarette to his lips. "My _man_."

"Just don't smoke them all at once, pal." Mutsuki was smiling too, though. His hair was getting longer, his roots dipping into the deep green hue that Touka had given him. As it hung around his ear, Shirazu could almost see—

Ah. That didn't really matter.

He took a sharp drag on his cigarette. They had not talked about it. Life had been so hectic lately, Shirazu didn't have the guts to bring it up. He didn't know if he wanted to. But they were alone, and at home, and who was gonna hear it, anyway?

Shirazu blew smoke out of the corner of his lip, and he rested his forehead against the metal again. "If you're looking for pads, I put a bag under the bathroom sink."

Mutsuki did a double take. Like he wasn't quite sure if he'd heard Shirazu right. After a minute or so of silence, Shirazu filling his lungs up with smoke and Mutsuki dwelling in whatever trouble his mind had cooked up for him, he sighed deeply. He reached out and grasped the rail above him, bracing himself and hanging his head.

"Shit," he muttered. "God damn it. How long have you known?"

"Um, _suspected_ is the right word, I think." Shirazu shrugged, watching Mutsuki's shoulders worriedly. "The first time I considered it was months ago, but I thought it was impossible. Hey, dude, lighten up. It's not the end of the world, like I've had lots of time to get used to it. I don't care."

"You don't care?" Mutsuki repeated, his tone venomous. "That's fine and dandy, Shirazu, but _I_ care."

Shirazu shrunk a bit under the weight of his words. He'd known, he'd known, okay? Now that he had said it he regretted it, and now was not the time to be fussing about this stuff. Would it change everything? He needed to make this right. It wasn't like Shirazu held it against him, or anything.

"I'm sorry," Shirazu said, enunciating his words very clearly. He put his cigarette out in the ashtray, stamping it into the glass and turning to face Mutsuki fully. "I didn't mean it like that, okay? I get that it's like, a thing with you, and you don't like people knowing about it."

Mutsuki went rigid, his arm muscles visibly coiling as his grip on the rail tightened. "A thing," he repeated once more. "You really are not helping. At all. Stop."

Shirazu swallowed hard, trying to think of a solution to this. He hadn't meant any ill will, but the topic was so sensitive— fuck. How badly had he fucked up here?

"Tooru," Shirazu said gently. "Buddy. _Brother_. You know me. It ain't got nothin' to do with, like, any of that. I don't care about who ya were before we met, or ten years ago, or when you were born. I just care about who you are now, man. I ain't gonna judge ya, 'cause I know you, and I _have_ known you. We've been through way too much for me to question it."

Mutsuki looked up at him. He let go of the rail and dropped his arms back behind him. "Shit," he said again, hanging his head back and looking up at the sky. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I just… I don't really like to talk about it."

"I figured, since we've lived together for six months and ya didn't think to tell me." Shirazu smirked, and nudged him gently. "No hard feelings, though. I got a life before ya that I don't like to talk about much either."

"Haru?"

"Sex, drugs, and rock and roll."

Mutsuki actually snorted, and he rested his temple against a metal spire as he smiled at Shirazu. "Doubt it," he said.

"What?" Shirazu pouted. "The fuck, man? Ya don't believe me?"

"I do not."

"Okay, well," he said flippantly, "the rock and roll part was true."

"I'll believe that."

"The drug part," Shirazu admitted, "was also kind of true."

"You kidding?"

"Um…" Shirazu smiled sheepishly. "Yo, one day I'm gonna throw a party in this place that'll blow your mind."

"I don't do parties like that," Mutsuki said with a slight roll of his one visible eye. "But I appreciate the sentiment. Anyway, can we get back to the fact that you bought me pads? Like, I don't even like buying pads."

"Why?" Shirazu blinked. "Oh, is it like, a comfort thing? 'Cause ya don't want people like, um, what is it… disgendering—"

"Misgendering," Mutsuki said patiently. "And, well, yes, but also it's kind of embarrassing."

"How?" Shirazu felt his own face screw up in confusion. "Like, ain't it like buyin' a box of condoms or somethin'? That shit is necessary. Gotta have. No one's gonna judge ya for it."

"It's not like condoms at all, because when you buy a box of condoms there's a sort of congratulatory triumph thing that's between you in the cashier instead of shame like, if I don't have these I'll be trailing blood from here to Shibuya." Mutsuki froze, blinking as he spoke and leaving his mouth open. "I-I mean… I've never bought condoms, but I assume…"

"Dude…" Shirazu patted him on the back reassuringly. "Ya overthink things. I've been a cashier before, and lemme tell ya, they don't give a fuck. They're not thinkin' about ya or what you're buyin', they're thinkin' about clockin' out and lyin' down and eatin' some food. I'll literally buy all that stuff for ya if it makes ya uncomfortable."

"Are you serious?" Mutsuki's eye seemed to bulge out of his head. "Shirazu… you don't have to…"

"I have got," Shirazu declared proudly, "approximately zero sense of shame. So lemme do it for ya. Pay back for the cigs." He winked for good measure, and stood up. "Did ya hear Kaneki come in?"

"Yeah." Mutsuki glanced back at his room. "I don't think he knows we're here. It's been a long few days."

"Yeah." Shirazu sighed. "When I find Kuki, I'm gonna kick his ass."

Mutsuki smiled at him as he stood. "Maybe give him a hug first," he suggested. "He might need it."

"Fine. Hug, then ass kick. Then I'll kiss him, just to _really_ fuck with him."

He ducked back into Mutsuki's room, leaving Mutsuki to follow him quietly. He stepped out of the room, and stopped in the doorway when he spotted Kaneki chatting amiably in the living room with that creepy ass ghoul, Uta.

"Bro…" Shirazu muttered. "What?"

Mutsuki poked his head in, and he looked at Kaneki pointedly. "What's happening?"

"Just a delivery," Uta said, holding up a box. "I did say I was delivering it myself, right? Well, here you are. I hope you enjoy it."

"Right…"

"When did you guys get home?" Kaneki asked, blinking between them curiously. "Mutsuki, you had work, didn't you?"

"Lunch break." Mutsuki folded his arms across his chest. "Not that I need one. It's nice to see you again, Mr. Uta."

"Charming… Tooru, was it?" Uta smiled. Shirazu frowned, and felt a little inclined to pull Mutsuki behind him. "Such a cute name. You know, if you ever need a mask, I'd be happy to—"

"Tooru is a ghoul investigator," Shirazu cut in firmly. "Don't ya forget. I'm the only one here really breaking the law."

"That's not what I heard," Uta said in a sing-song voice, his index finger waggling suggestively in the air. Beside Shirazu, Mutsuki paled quite a bit.

Kaneki looked between Mutsuki and Uta confusedly. "What?" He focused on Mutsuki, his chin lowering a bit. "What does he mean?"

Mutsuki stayed silent. He lifted his head high, and shot a glare at Uta. "Whatever you heard is wrong," he said firmly.

"So you aren't hunting down Aogiri ghouls for information about— what was that missing boy's name— Urie?" Uta shrugged. "Not my problem. You hear things, when you do business like mine. Just be careful, Tooru. You got lucky enough this time not to have found a true Aogiri member. Next time you might actually find what you're looking for, and it won't be pretty."

Then Uta shot a bright smile at Kaneki. "It's nothing to worry about. Just rumors flying. You know how it is. Yesterday I heard that Kirishima Ayato's been declawed— imagine that! So silly. That boy would claw his way out of hell if it suited him."

"Yeah," Kaneki said, chuckling a little nervously. "Those… those Kirishimas."

"So?" Uta held out his package, his head cocked curiously. "You will open it, won't you? I'd love to see it on."

Shirazu wouldn't really call himself a simple guy. He liked loud music and colorful clothes. He liked old music and black-and-white movies. He liked smashing beer bottles with baseball bats and he liked gazing at stars. He liked making his friends happy and he liked to make his enemies bleed.

He wouldn't exactly call himself complex either, though.

So this mask— this odd accumulation of puzzle pieces that revealed the Greek masks of tragedy and comedy, altered to account for Shirazu's peculiarly shaped teeth— it was a shock. He'd give Uta that. He had not expected anything this ornate.

And it was… nice. One half grin, one half frown— it seemed to suit him.

He pulled it on gingerly. It was made of glass or plastic, so it was very cool when it pressed against his skin. It fastened in the back and covered his whole face. He blinked, and turned to look down at Mutsuki.

"Scary?"

"Not quite." Mutsuki smiled, and he shrugged. "Cool though."

"Eh. I'll take cool." He nodded toward Uta. "Thanks, man. I owe ya."

"Glad to help. Ghoul to ghoul." Uta tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You are a strange lot, aren't you? Ghoul investigators, yet ghoul sympathizers. Must make the job painful."

"It pays the bills," Shirazu said dryly. Kaneki smiled at him, and then he jumped as his phone rang. He turned away as he picked it up.

"Hello?" His voice was somewhat urgent. Shirazu hadn't seen his face when he'd picked up. It could be work. "What—? Okay, okay." Kaneki reached over the couch and snatched the remote, turning on the television quickly. "Okay, Amon, I'm watching. What— _oh_."

They all froze as they looked at the television. On a news network, a reporter was commenting on a picture of one of the murals that the Painter had done. However, this one had someone in front of it.

Kirishima Touka's mask glinted in the sunlight, and her kagune glinted brighter, her one wing arching beneath the mural Urie had done— a mural of _her_ kagune. _Her_ wing. Shirazu remembered her mask and her kagune well, having almost killed her and Mutsuki at one point, but this… his heart nearly stopped. It didn't help that the photography was masterfully done. Touka had a spray can of paint in her fist, and had added to the mural: **GHOULS RIGHTS NOW**

"Oh god," Mutsuki whispered, gripping the back of the couch tightly. "Oh god, Touka… what have you done?"

Kaneki stood, the remote in one hand, his phone in the other. His expression was difficult to read, but the shock and fear in his eyes were hard for even him to mask.

"Amon," he said. "I'm going to have to call you back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> profuse. [adv]  
> in disorder, haphazardly, helter-skelter.  
> extravagantly.


	45. luctuose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! obviously it has been awhile, and i don't entirely consider this story to be off hiatus. i only decided to write a new chapter because touken's canon so i felt like celebrating. also writing star wars fic is really fun! 
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

His mind was drifting away from him. All of his nightmares seemed to catch up to him, and though his legs moved, he could not quite grasp at his surroundings. The city was consumed by a persistent fog, one that bled through his mind and into this eyes and filled up the landscape like a rising tide.

Touka was not stupid. This was definitely a calculated risk, and he could not blame her for calculating wrong. Everything had worked out in her favor so far, after all.

He had to get her out of this. He had to save her somehow.

The commute to the First Branch wasn't nearly as long as he was used to. He supposed he was in so much of a daze that he didn't quite notice when he was off the subway and shuffling down a road toward the yawning white building. Amon's frantic voice still echoed in his ear.

" _You'd better turn on the news, Kaneki_. _You— you're not going to like this, but you need to see it._ "

He and Amon didn't see eye to eye often, but the man really did care about him. That much he knew. That much he wished he _didn't_ know. It would be easier if Amon was detached. It'd make their arrangement more efficient.

He walked into the First Branch. There was no fuss. He thought about who he had been in another life, a ghoul and a terrorist and a human all at once. Now he could walk into the CCG's main headquarters and no one batted an eye.

Not even Kaneki felt the discomfort of being somewhere he did not belong.

"Ken!" a dreamy voice called out to him. "What are you doing here?"

Kaneki turned to look down at Ihei. Her heavily lidded eyes were watching him curiously, her pale hair slipping against her cheek as she cocked her head to the side.

"Hmm," she hummed. "You look nervous. Is something the matter?"

"No, Ihei," he said cautiously. "It's fine. Do you know if the Director is in?"

Ihei's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. "The Director," she repeated. "Really? What business do you have with him?"

"Just some mishap." Kaneki licked his lips, the sour sweat of his upper lip settling on his tongue. He wondered how thoroughly she saw through him. If she knew about Touka yet. Right about now the men who had been in the 20th ward's branch when Touka had appeared were beginning to recognize that mask. He felt it. This whole damn world was beginning to stir. "Not all that important, but— you know how it is when you spread misinformation. I want to make sure he understands the extent of it."

"Oh?" Ihei lowered her gaze and smiled. "How honorable of you. Well, I think he's off somewhere right now, but he should be back in a bit. Would you like to wait with me?"

"That…" Kaneki was going to say no before he remembered his manners, and he smiled faintly. "That sounds lovely."

"Good!" She hooked her arm through his and led him away from the stairs and toward a recreational lounge. Kaneki didn't know what to say or do, caught up in a web of confusion that trailed from Touka to Yoshitoki to Arima. His head was spinning, trying to prioritize information, trying to align his perspective now to his perspective _then_. He was terrified, and he was angry, and he didn't know what to do.

"Funny how we just ran into each other," Ihei said, releasing him so he could sit down on a couch. Her dreamy eyes were following him knowingly, as if she had already guessed his darkest secrets. He sunk into his seat and looked down at his hands. "You're never here, after all. Don't you think it's funny?"

Kaneki blinked at her. His mouth was dry. "A bit," he admitted. He offered her a small, nervous smile.

"You seem antsy," Ihei remarked. She plopped down in a chair beside him and tilted her chin up. "What's the problem?"

"I'm just— I'm tired." Kaneki rubbed his eyes, not simply for the effect but because he was being honest. He was so damn tired, and he knew why. He knew he couldn't sleep. He knew he couldn't think. He knew he couldn't change a goddamn thing. And he knew he was wallowing. "How are you? How's school?"

"I don't go to school, Kaneki," Ihei reminded him with a gentle smile. "That was just an assignment."

"Oh? Oh. Right."

Ihei watched him, her eyelids growing heavier as she studied his face. How dreamy she was— how far away from all this shit she seemed to be. It was as though her eyes were mirrors, and Kaneki could see his own weary face blinking back at him when she shot him a glance.

"You're strange," Ihei laughed merrily, elbowing his arm lightly. "Lighten up. The Director isn't so scary, and I'm sure whatever you did will brush over."

"Whatever I did?"

Ihei smirked at him. "Well," she said, "duh? Why else would you be acting this way?"

Kaneki smiled at her sheepishly, allowing her to keep this notion that Kaneki had made a mistake. Because he had, in a way, with managing Touka's case. He had not contacted her in a while, though technically he wasn't supposed to. It was bad timing, overall, since this had all popped up alongside Urie Kuki's disappearance. There was just too many things coming to a conjunction at Touka's feet, and Kaneki didn't know how to stop any of it.

"You're right," he said, letting his shoulders loosen. "I need to calm down. It'll be okay. Right?"

"Right!" Ihei clasped her hands together triumphantly. "No worries, then! You'll be fine."

It was good to hear. It was _really_ good to hear, even if he didn't entirely believe it.

Kaneki Ken felt good for approximately point eight seconds before his eyes wandered and fell upon the vacant face of Arima Kishou.

 _Shit_ , he thought numbly. His whole body had gone cold.

He stood up, but Ihei had already waved the man over, so Kaneki stood frozen as he watched Arima's slow approach. He didn't so much as acknowledge Kaneki.

"Ihei." His voice was quiet, almost reserved, as he seemed to register Kaneki's presence. "How was your mission?"

Ihei looked pleased— beyond pleased, really— that he had bothered to ask. Her eyes lit up as she launched into a tale of a thrilling chase scene. Kaneki couldn't help but completely tune her out, her words shrinking steadily until they were gone altogether. He stood mutely, stood deafly, stood with eyes unfocused and mind on the wire. He could fall. He would fall.

It was only a matter of time.

Another go, then?

Kaneki felt the pressure. The pressure to succeed, the stone cold belief that he would fail. It was all dredged up upon simply glancing at his killer's face. His mind, his mind, oh— where was his mind?

He was hardly even there. Was this all a dream?

Was this— was this all some fucked up version of heaven?

He had died. He had gone back. But was any of it _real_?

"And you?" Arima's voice struck like ignited gun powder, spitting and twisting in his mind until it all exploded at once. "Kaneki?"

Kaneki stood, mouth dry, eyes wide, and he thought, _is this real, is it really real, is this happening?_ His heart could not quite bear it.

So he backpedaled. He threw up his hands, and he said, "No. No, I can't do this. Not you." He turned around sharply. "Not today."

And so he left, albeit a bit shakily, heading almost blindly to the nearest bathroom and screaming into the nearest sink. It echoed dully, vibrating off porcelain and bouncing off mirrors and shuddering in the grout between tiles. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe.

What was going to happen?

Was he overreacting?

Well, he was always overreacting, but did any of it matter?

The thought of Touka made him shudder. Of course it mattered.

He was delusional.

 _I can fix this_ , he thought.

His heart wasn't in it.

 _If the world ends today,_ he thought, _then it burns, and it burns, and I will gladly burn with it. Again and again. I'll do it all over, if I could make things right._

He took a deep breath. His throat felt raw from all the screaming. He closed his eyes, and he tried to smile, but there was nothing left in him to allow it.

Yoshitoki approached him about half an hour later, walking up to his office door and speaking to Kaneki without looking down at him.

"Well," he said solemnly, "we have our work cut out for us."

Kaneki sat on the floor, his back against the doorframe and his knees pulled to his chest. He turned his gaze up at the Director desperately.

"Tell me we can fix this."

Yoshitoki unlocked the door and held it open. "Who do you think I am, Kaneki?"

Kaneki blinked. He smirked dully, and pushed himself to his feet.

"The scandal hasn't actually broken yet," Yoshitoki said, shifting files about his desk idly, "thank the lord, but we are running on borrowed time. I've been out all afternoon trying to get every news station I can in my pocket, plus the papers— can't do much about social media, I'm afraid, but if a hundred twitters start yapping about the CCG sheltering the new face of ghoul rights no one will give it a thought."

"A hundred, maybe not," Kaneki said. He leaned forward and met Yoshitoki's eye. "But what if it grows? What if it goes viral? Not a hundred, but a hundred thousand. That can't be fixed easily."

"No," Yoshitoki agreed, "but it's far preferable than mass hysteria having a sound, provable base. We need to dust this under the carpet."

"Without causing Touka any danger or harm?"

"Damn it, Kaneki," Yoshitoki murmured, drawing his hands over his mouth and nose. "I told you, I am _trying_. I want to help her! But she's making it hard. Really, did she even think before she threw on that mask and took that photo?"

"Of course she did!" Kaneki snapped. "Sir, you put her in the pit of _Aogiri_! She's got to do what they say, especially when it's something as simple as posing for a camera! What if she refused them? Did you really think that this could be her idea?"

"Some people do." Yoshitoki rubbed the bridge of his nose irritably. "I'm sorry, Kaneki, but those who do know— opinion of her isn't exactly high. Word of her existence is beginning to spread because of the lack of faith in _me_ by low ranking investigators from your ward. What am I supposed to do? Say it is our fault for embedding her in such a risky organization? In their eyes she should have risked exposure and death and said no. That is out of my hands."

"Bullshit."

"Mind your tongue, Kaneki," Yoshitoki said coolly. His black eyes watched him, glassy and inscrutable as twin marbles. Kaneki couldn't help but shrink at his tone. He did not use it often, and Kaneki was genuinely shocked by it. "I know we have a good relationship— perhaps an unorthodox one, if I'm honest, but a good one nonetheless. However, your feelings in this matter are clouded by your feelings for that girl."

"She's doing what you wanted," Kaneki said, his voice small and shaky. "She's getting us the information you need! She is doing everything she possibly can not to get caught, and you— you _question_ her, after all of that? She came back here after the CCG pretty much admitted to destroying her family. This isn't fair!"

"This is not simply a defense organization, but a bureaucracy, Kaneki!" Yoshitoki shook his head, averting his gaze as though looking at Kaneki's pitiable face was just too much. "There's a system— there are _rules_ that I have been bending and breaking for your benefit, and I can only do that for so long! We will fix this— I will bury it under a mountain of red tape if I have to, but I will tell you Kaneki that it will not go away. The Special Class investigators know who she is. They're calling for blood."

"Then give them blood," Kaneki spat, his voice low and brimming with disgust. "Give them anything they want to make them shut up— anything but Touka."

Yoshitoki watched him, his expression hard but his eyes softening in a strangely understanding way. He leaned forward, reaching across the desk and touching Kaneki's hand.

"You don't know what you're asking," he said gently. "I will pretend I did not hear that."

Kaneki shook him off and shot him a chilly glare. "You heard me," he said. "You heard me loud and clear. I will do my part to take down Aogiri if you can convince them that Touka is not a threat."

"I told you," Yoshitoki said slowly, "that I am _trying_. But Kaneki, if it is out of my hands, then we must—"

"And I told you," Kaneki cut in sharply, "what I am willing to do. Fix this, Director. Fix this, or so help me the world will burn."

Yoshitoki stared at him. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, and said to him, "I think it might be best if you leave for now."

Kaneki stared right back at him. He stood up and marched out without another word.

* * *

She laughed warmly, feeling lighter than she had in weeks— months perhaps, as Hide shrugged and poured her portion of boxed wine into his own glass. "More for me," he joked. "Next time I'll just go to the blood bank so this can be a real party, huh? How's that sound?"

"Funny," she said, hopping up onto his counter and watching him sip at the wine. It was in a jar with a Pokémon on its face. "Thank you. For letting me in, I mean. I know it's been awhile."

"Touka," Hide said, his warm brown eyes burning with sincerity, "you could probably bite me and take a huge chunk out of my shoulder, and I'd be like, ' _Thank you so fucking much, amen_!'" He raised his glass to her and took a gulp.

"Ew," she said flatly. She couldn't help but smirk though. "You're awful. Does Kaneki know about these fantasies?"

"What Kaneki doesn't know won't hurt him."

She rolled her eyes. "You dog," she said dryly. Then she kicked her feet, shyly toeing onto a topic she'd been meaning to bring up but didn't know how. "How… is he?"

"Kaneki?" Hide set his glass down, and he glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Busy. Sad, I think, but Kaneki's always been sad. I hardly see him, but… I dunno. The kids keep him occupied, which is nice. Don't you talk to him anymore?"

Touka swallowed hard. "It's… been a little while." She sighed and picked at her cuticles, hoping to avoid going into depth about that. She didn't know if it was the CCG or just… her. That was frightening. It was frightening that she cared. "I feel like I've missed so much, but it's only been six months, you know? My missing poster is still up in some places."

"I've got one in my room," Hide admitted.

"Well that's not creepy at all," she remarked.

"Hey!" He held up his hands defensively. "I was taking them down for your sake! I thought it might be nice to keep one, though— for ornamental reasons. It looks cool."

"Right." She rolled her eyes. Idly, she began to drum her fingers against the counter. Waiting was difficult, especially waiting in anxiety. She wasn't sure what she was going to tell Kaneki, but she had a feeling this wasn't going to end great.

Hide eyes followed her fingers from over his jar of wine. He lowered it to the counter, and said softly, "Did something happen?"

She glanced at him sharply. It was easy to forget how perceptive he was, but also Touka felt that she must have been too obvious in her nervousness somewhere along the way. So she shrugged passively.

"I'm a spy," she said. "When isn't something happening?"

Hide grinned at her. "Touché."

As much as she wanted to admit to her heartache and confusion, she couldn't. Hide was a friend, but to what extent? There was no use in spilling her guts to this guy. There was no use letting her feelings get the better of her. She couldn't be scared now. She couldn't back down now.

A knock at the door caused her to stiffen. If Hide noticed, he ignored it.

She sat quietly and imagined it was all different. It was fun to imagine such a thing. Any life besides this one, right?

Self-pity was a poor shade on her.

Kaneki appeared in the doorway, and their eyes met in one charged moment of shock and despair. She saw the fear in his eyes, gray panic draining away all his passion and leaving him a wreck. A wreck to be hollowed and scavenged. She must be a cracked mirror in the waterlogged hull of a sunken ship.

"Touka," he started, taking a step forward.

She slid off the counter and turned away from him. She couldn't look at him any longer— his eyes, his eyes were— had his eyes _always_ looked like that?

Touka knew the dead just as well as she knew the living.

Those were the eyes of someone long gone.

"You know," she said, crossing her arms over her stomach and staring out the kitchen window dully, "I thought I had a good grip on things? Funny how life fucks with you like that, huh?"

"Touka," Kaneki said softly. "What have you done?"

Touke pressed her lips together thinly. She imagined they were both somewhere else. She imagined things were different. The sky was beneath their feet and there was no cold and there was no fear and she could _feel_ something more than this— whatever _this_ was.

"I'm sorry, okay?" She turned to face him sharply, her eyes aglow and her teeth bare. "Look, I can't control him, I didn't _know_ he was going to get the kid involved in all of this!"

Kaneki stepped back as though she had marched up to him and clocked him in the jaw. His dull eyes darted about the kitchen confusedly before finally falling upon her face.

"Wait…" He took a tentative step toward her, his chin lowering. "What? What are you talking about?"

Touka's heart sunk. _Fuck_ , she thought. _Of course. I must have fucked up worse than I thought_. "What are _you_ talking about?" she countered.

He looked at her rather incredulously, and he opened his hands out. Then he flung his arms out, as though it were very obvious.

"The photo?" When she stared at him blankly, he groaned. "Touka— the photo with the mural! Come on."

"Oh." She blinked, and she grimaced a bit. "I didn't think that would be an issue."

"It's on national news, Touka!"

"Ha!" She clapped her hands together, half a grin rising to her lips. "No way! That's awesome."

"No it's not, it's literally going to get you killed!" Kaneki's voice raised in volume, echoing across the kitchen like a clap of thunder. Touka stood, a little stunned at his outburst, before she shot him a chilly look.

"So what?"

Kaneki stared at her incredulously. His mouth opened, and then it closed. Behind him, Hide was watching her sympathetically. She fucking hated that.

"So _what_?" She repeated, taking a large step forward. She opened up her arms, entreating him to give her a fucking reason, give her a fucking care, give her some fucking solace or peace of mind or even just a fraction of hope that she would make it to her next birthday. "Let Washuu Yoshitoki shut me in a cell or cut my head off. Let humans tear us apart and wipe us from history. Let the whole goddamn world turn on itself and eradicate all life from existence! I _don't care_!"

"Yes you do," he said softly.

"No!" Her voice was shaking and her eyes were bleary from tears. "I don't! I don't care anymore! Fuck you! Fuck humans! Fuck ghouls! I might as well already be dead, and it's not _fair_."

"Touka," Kaneki murmured. He took a step forward, holding his hands out as though to embrace her. She reared back, throwing an arm out like he was some feral animal that she needed to protect herself against.

"I didn't ask for this," she said.

"I know," he said, his dead eyes soft and searching, "I know you didn't."

"If I had been smarter," she said faintly, leaning back against Hide's counter and holding her head, "if I had just… just thought for a moment before turning myself in… what was it all worth, in the end?"

"It's not the end," Kaneki said firmly. "Hide, tell her. Tell her it's not the end."

"It's not the end," Hide said. His voice was quiet. Introspective. He looked at her in wonder and terror. It seemed to dawn on him for the first time the stakes she had put herself under. Humans were lucky that way. They couldn't understand the horror of being a ghoul until the truth was before them.

"You said it yourself, that they'll kill me." She closed her eyes and smiled ruefully. "Over a fucking _picture_ , Kaneki? Really? What happens if I slip up? Kill a human? Or worse? Honestly! A picture!"

"A picture that suggests you're a triple agent, Touka," Kaneki sighed, shaking his head furiously. "Don't you get it? They think you're actually Aogiri!"

"I literally sold my fucking soul to them, and they think I'd be stupid enough to get photographic evidence of my treachery?" Touka thought about it for a moment, and she grimaced. "Yeah, I guess that's in character for them. But I— I wouldn't. Of course they don't know that I wouldn't though, huh?" She dropped her head into her hands and groaned. "Fuck."

"I'm sure things will straighten out," Hide piped up. Both Kaneki and Touka turned to look at him mournfully. He was smiling, and not even their melancholy could dampen the light behind that grin. She couldn't help but admire his optimism, even if it was unfounded. "They'll see, Touka. You're loyal."

"No I'm not," she scoffed. "I hate the CCG."

"Who doesn't?" Hide asked with a short, bitter laugh. "They're awful."

"True," Kaneki remarked. He bowed his head, and sighed. "Unfortunately they own us, though. So we have to do our part. That means no more photos of ghoul sympathy movements."

"Got it," Touka said dully.

"Washuu and I are going to try our best to quiet this down," Kaneki sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Until then, please lie low. Don't gain too much unwanted attention."

"Noted."

"Now." Kaneki gave her a _look_. She felt a little put off by how suddenly his demeanor changed. "Tell me about what you were saying earlier. What kid?"

Touka balked a bit. This… this was not good. "Uh…" She winced, and she turned away. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Touka."

"Oh, fuck you," she snapped. "Don't "Touka" me, like you know me so fucking well, _Kaneki_. I'm so sick of your shit!"

"I know you," Kaneki said softly. His eyes, which were so dead and gone to all the world seemed to jumpstart. He said these words, and fire sparked behind the fog glazing his irises.

Behind him, Hide quietly slipped away. Touka watched him cross the living room and exit the front door. She felt her heart sink, realizing he'd left them alone for a reason—

Because Kaneki… what?

What did this even mean?

"No you don't," Touka whispered, tears prickling behind her eyes. She didn't get it. She didn't want to get it. It wasn't fair of him— she didn't want to know him!

"I _do_." He stepped forward, and she whirled away. "Don't be so dramatic!"

"Right back at you!" she snapped.

"Touka, please, I'm trying to talk to you!"

"Urie Kuki is at Anteiku, okay?" She turned to face him, her expression hard and her eyes cold. "He's fine. He's safe. I didn't know about it until a night or two ago."

Kaneki was caught completely off guard. His mouth dropped open, gaping at her as though she had just dropped a nuclear detonator or something. " _What_?" he gasped. "I— wait, back up! How the _hell_ did he get to Anteiku? Why is he there?"

"Um," Touka said, pressing her lips together and waggling her finger. "Great question. Uh, well, the way Urie put it—"

"You _spoke_ to him?" Kaneki backed up against a wall. He blinked dazedly, and then began to laugh. His laughter bubbled up like a joyous refrain, and filled the whole room in disbelief. "He— oh my god, Shirazu's going to be so damn happy—!"

"Oh." Touka had forgotten about the other Quinx. She felt a bit guilty for that. "Are they close?"

"If Mutsuki and Shirazu are like brothers," Kaneki said, "then Urie is like Shirazu's best friend. He's been really shaken up by this whole thing, and… I'm glad that he's safe. But _Anteiku_? Really, Touka?"

"It's not my fault, okay? Ayato saved him from Eto, and the whole damn thing got so messed up— the kid got shot, okay?"

"Shot." Kaneki stared at her. He threw his hands into the air. "Why not?"

"I wasn't there." She exhaled sharply through her nose, and she shrugged. "Maybe if I had been, things would have been different, and a ghoul investigator's son wouldn't be lofting in my goddamn home. But I wasn't there. And I hate that."

Kaneki's eyes softened. "I'm so sorry, Touka," he said. "I'm sorry that I've done this to you."

"You know, you're very self-congratulatory," she spat, "putting all the blame on yourself. Idiot. I made this choice. You tried to talk me out of it, remember?"

Kaneki's eyes were glued to her face. They seemed to glitter. She realized, with dawning horror, that he had begun to cry.

"It's really my fault," she gasped, averting her gaze sharply. "I'm really the idiot, aren't I? I thought I could handle this, but I was so deluded— I wish I had listened to you."

"Touka," Kaneki murmured. "It's my fault."

"No," she sighed, "it's not, I—"

"I chose the CCG," he cut in sharply.

She glanced at him. The tears had slipped onto his cheeks, drawing slow lines against his pale skin. She offered a small, tight smile. "You were… very human," she said quietly. "It was a natural decision."

"No."

She quirked an eyebrow at him amusedly. "No?" she repeated. "It wasn't a natural decision?"

"No," he said, "I wasn't human. I haven't been human for… a very long time, I think."

She watched him, a little puzzled but mostly anxious as his tears began to accumulate.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shrinking back against the wall. She stared at him, looking around frantically as though she might find some kind of tool for comfort in Hide's kitchen. "I'm sorry your life turned out this way. I never wanted this for you. Not for you."

"You can't control me, Kaneki," she said with a short, quiet laugh. "I'm a big girl. I make my own choices."

"I know." He looked at her, his eyes glittering with tears and regret. "You know… the last time… I was so sure that by keeping you out of my mess, it would save you. Maybe it did. Was I right? You hated me for it, but I think you hate me even more now than you ever did then. So was it right?"

Touka blinked. She'd lost where he'd gone, and couldn't quite understand it. "I don't hate you," she sighed, a bit begrudgingly. "I think you're a pest, but that's probably just because you're a man. Hide's worse."

"I never considered your feelings." He looked up at her. His tears flowed freely, and he smiled at her faintly. "I know how you felt now. You didn't consider mine when you chose this."

She could only stare at him vacantly. "What are you talking about?" she asked distantly.

"Why do you think I've been so desperate to get to know you?" he asked flatly.

"Um…" Her first thought made her wince. She didn't want to talk about that. Or this. Whatever this was. "I don't know, because I was the only ghoul you knew of?"

"How did I know you were a ghoul, then?"

"How the fuck should I know?" She scoffed. "Maybe Rize told you."

"Rize's only concern that night was if there was enough meat on my bones to satisfy her," Kaneki said, wiping his cheek with his sleeve and sniffling. "Fuck, Touka… I knew because I already _knew_ you."

"What does that mean?" she asked him blankly. "Like, you stalked me or something? Creepy. Even for you."

"No! I—!" Kaneki took a deep breath. He looked like he was about to sob. "Damn it, Touka, I know you because I _knew_ you. In the future or— I guess now it's some weird alternate reality? I don't know, but it existed, it was _real_. It was real. I was real."

"What…?" Touka squinted at him, trying to process what he had said. "The fuck…? Are you fucking with me right now?"

"Why would I lie about this?"

"Because you are one sick fuck, and you know it."

He opened his mouth, and then promptly shut it.

"The future? Alternate realities?" Touka sighed deeply, and she whisked her fingers through her messy hair. "Why not? Are our lives not weird enough for you already, Kaneki? You've got to add fucking time travel?"

"It's true," he said faintly.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," she replied, turning her face away and staring at a wall. _This is insane. Does he hear himself?_

She couldn't even consider the idea that it might be true.

"Hear me out," he whispered.

"Why should I?"

"Well… you said you don't hate me." He smiled, his lips trembling pitifully. He slid down the wall and his legs folded beneath him. After a minute, Touka sighed and sat down across from him on the kitchen floor. Up close, his face was splotchy and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Imagine the day we met," Kaneki said, his voice soft and slow and soothing in a way that she did not quite understand. It was thick as well, thick with tears and despair and nostalgia that was also so far away from her grasp that she found herself almost deaf to it. "But here is the difference: I do not know you are a ghoul. We go our separate ways. You end up saving me. Once, maybe twice. And then I get into a fight with Nishio."

"Nishiki? Wait, didn't that happen anyway?" She shot him an irritated glance. He shrugged.

"Some things have happened the same." He wrung his hands nervously, and shot a glance over his shoulder at the front door, as if Hide might walk in at any moment. "Others… you know, I'm thankful. Don't get me wrong, this life… has treated me better than the one I left. But it hurts, being close to some and… not to others. It hurts not knowing you."

"You keep saying you know me, you know me," Touka said, leaning forward slightly and looking him in the eye. "Kaneki, we're friends. I know I give you shit, but you don't need to make up some story to prove it."

He smiled. It was tearful and distant.

"I worked at Anteiku," he said.

"Is that how we knew each other?" she teased. "In this weird alternate reality, we worked together? Cute."

"You taught me how to fight."

"Ha." She found herself enjoying this story, even if she didn't quite believe it. "I believe it. Were you any good?"

"No, I was pretty awful." He smiled sheepishly. "You wiped the floor with me. I think I still enjoyed it, though. I liked it when you bossed me around."

She whistled, and leaned back onto her hands. "Masochist."

"Yeah," he said, wiping at his eyes again and laughing through his tears. "I wasn't a good fighter until Aogiri got me."

Touka glanced at him. He did not meet his gaze.

"This isn't funny anymore," she said lowly.

"You weren't there," he said dully, his eyes glazing over. A distant fog drew over his features. As though his soul had left him an empty husk on Hide's kitchen floor. "It was just Yamori. He… made me count backwards from a thousand. Cut off my fingers and toes. Days went by. I wondered then— and I still wonder, even now, what was the _point_ of it all? Once I asked Mutsuki— he's so much better off than I was. He kept so much of himself through that, and I envy him sometimes, because what is it about _him_ that was stronger? What was it about me that made me crack? Was it because Yamori had me longer? Was it the centipede? Was it my mother, my aunt, or was it just _me_? Was I just always that unhinged?"

Touka sat quietly.

"I don't think I like this story, Kaneki," she whispered.

He blinked, as though her shaky voice had snapped him from some deep reverie. He swallowed hard, and smiled at her gently.

"I don't either," he said. "But what went wrong for me… at least you were safe. You were home. You had the manager, and Hinami, and Nishiki, and Irimi, and Komo. That's why I felt like you didn't need me, even if it made you sad. But you didn't even know me when you decided you didn't need me. I guess you've always been like that, though."

Touka looked down at her hands. She folded them in her lap, and she shook her head. "You paint a pretty picture," she said slowly, "but you know, I don't sound very happy in this story. And neither do you. Kaneki, are you happy?"

"Are you?" he replied sharply.

"I'm never happy," she said, rolling her eyes. "I never _will_ be. If you really knew me in another life, you'd recognize that. I'll always want for something, I think, but who the fuck cares? I pity myself, I pity the world, but I don't actually want to die. I just want to fucking do something."

"You never change," he said fondly. Touka blinked as he reached out and gingerly tucked a piece of discolored hair behind her ear. Then he retreated, his hand recoiling from her skin as though it had burned him. "Sorry."

"I hope we weren't dating in this other life," Touka said, a small warning in her voice. "I don't have the time or the patience."

Kaneki smiled a little, and he looked down at his hands. "We weren't," he said quietly.

Touka didn't ask if he wanted to. She still didn't quite believe him, and opening that can of worms was a bad idea.

"You compare my choice to spy on Aogiri to your choice to… what? Leave Anteiku?" She tilted her head. "Why?"

"Because it hurt me. Like I think my leaving hurt you."

"You're pretty full of yourself," she told him curtly, "thinking your actions had any long term effects on my feelings. Asshole."

He smiled. "See, I knew you'd get over it eventually." Then his face seemed to fall again. "I wonder if you ever found out."

"Found out what?"

"That I died."

Touka jerked back, looking at him with a fixed, incredulous stare. He was not looking at her, but at a place somewhere beyond her face.

The front door opened with a creak, and Hide shouted, "I'm back! Please tell me no one is dead!"

Kaneki snatched her by the hands, and he leaned very close. "Don't tell him _anything_ ," he breathed. Touka's eyes darted uncertainly over his face, still not quite sure what to make of any of this. She nodded quickly, if only to get him to release her.

Hide poked his head into the kitchen, and he blinked down at them curiously. "What are you two doing down there?"

"Reconciling."

"Oh, _marvelous_." Hide grinned at them broadly. "Because I just rented like, five movies. Who's up for it?"

Touka couldn't help feeling that something had changed here. She didn't believe Kaneki— she didn't believe she _could_ , really. But part of her was dwelling on it beyond rationality, and it scared her.

Because what if it was true?

* * *

The evening stretched on, a slight breeze rustling the curtains in the kitchen. Hinami was washing out mugs in the sink while Ayato and Urie sat at the table playing Tic Tac Toe.

It was day five. Maybe day six. Who knew really, at this point.

"What is that?" Urie jerked his chin at the box that had been sitting on the table since the night it had been used as an impromptu surgical top for his gunshot wound. Ayato's eyes landed on it, and he sighed. Right. Yomo's gift.

"I don't know," he said. "Also, you lost."

"What?" Urie looked down. He looked puzzled for a moment before he seemed to get over the juvenile game. Instead he reached over and grasped the box. "Can I open this?"

"Knock yourself out."

They weren't friends. Ayato couldn't consider them friends, because they didn't talk. Not about each other, at least.

Ayato felt that he hardly knew this boy. And this boy hardly knew him.

Friendship required trust. There would never be trust between them.

While Urie ripped the box open, Hinami plopped down in the chair beside Ayato. Her honey colored hair bounced around her chin, curling softly beneath it as it settled. Ayato watched her intently, and thought about saying something or anything. But he didn't. Or he couldn't.

He wasn't sure.

"Nice," Urie said flatly. He held up a shiny black mask, full faced and blank except for the golden ring of a solar eclipse enameled into its forehead. Ayato blinked at it.

"What?" He blurted, reaching for it slowly. Urie pulled back, shooting Ayato a chilly look. Ayato gaped at him before recognizing how fucked up his action had been. "Give me the goddamn mask, it's from my uncle."

"What?" Hinami asked, peering up at him curiously. "Your uncle? Who…?"

"It doesn't matter. Urie, come on." Ayato reached for it again, and Urie held it further. Ayato ground his teeth together and stood up. His chair screeched against the tile. "Hand it over!"

"How many people have you killed?" the boy asked nonchalantly. He was looking up at the mask, holding it gingerly above his head as a Player might portray Hamlet performing his soliloquy to Yorick's skull.

Ayato couldn't help but balk at the question. Even Hinami stiffened beside him. Her tiny hand reached out and caught him by the shirt sleeve. He couldn't even meet her eye.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice detached and small, "but I don't remember signing up for a goddamn interrogation when I saved your ass."

Urie's dull, snake-like eyes slid toward Ayatos' face. He shrugged and set the ebony mask onto the table, slipping it over to Ayato as casually as if it were a drink. "Just curious," he said.

"Fuck you," Ayato spat, snatching his mask and turning away.

"Ayato," Hinami sighed, yanking on his sleeve. "Sit back down. Let's talk about it."

"I don't have anything else to say to him."

"That doesn't matter. You'll speak anyway."

When he glared at her, he found he didn't have the heart to keep it up. She sat with her chin high and her eyes narrowed. The determination in her face, the certainty in her small smile— he couldn't help but sigh and relent.

He wasn't the person he used to be, that was for sure.

Urie watched, disinterest glazing his stony eyes. His wrapped leg was elevated on another chair. It was healing nicely, and he'd been practicing hiding his limp all day.

"How can you be the Painter?" Ayato snapped rather suddenly. It took Urie by surprise, the boy's eyes flickering wide for a moment before his face became stony again. "How? You hate it here, you hate us, you can't even hide your hatred, and we're all probably gonna die because of you."

"Your faith in me is astounding," Urie muttered. He frowned into his hands as he brought them slowly to his mouth and seemed to ponder on Ayato's words briefly. He closed his eyes, and offered another careless shrug. "I guess it's because I'm not the Painter."

"What?" Ayato thought back to their first meeting, and he rolled his eyes violently. "Stop fucking with me, man."

Urie's eyes snapped open, and he glanced at Ayato sharply. "I'm not joking," he said.

Hinami tilted her head, honeyed hair slipping while honeyed eyes glimmered. "If you're not the Painter," she said, "then who is?"

Urie lowered his hands slowly. He blinked at them, his brow creasing slightly. "I… I guess no one. The Painter… it's just a concept." He looked between the two of them, and his eyes softened for the first time in days. "I'm sorry. It was my friend's idea. He… cares more about this than I do."

"Fake," Ayato scoffed, resting back in his chair and turning his face away to hide the pure disappointment. This boy was such a fluke.

"There had to be a reason," Hinami reasoned, looking hastily between Ayato and Urie. "I mean… you risked your life for this, Urie."

"I've risked my life for less, and I'll probably do it again." Urie rested his cheek on his fist and watched the ceiling dully. "My life… you won't get it. I have a lot of privilege. Too much privilege, probably. I grew up knowing my whole life was mapped out for me. I would kill ghouls for a living, I'd climb through the ranks, and I'd make my father proud. That's that. It's all I ever wanted."

"And…" Hinami lowered her chin, understanding dawning over her sweet face. "That changed. Why did that change?"

Urie blinked at her. He stared for a little too long, so Ayato snapped his fingers abruptly in his face. Urie focused his attention on Ayato with a glare.

"I tried something _different_." He dropped his fist and flung his hands into the air like he was praising some religion. "I _met_ someone different. I don't know, okay? I wanted to be different. Life is never just going to be handed to me, not even if I become an investigator. I met someone who liked me, who liked being _around_ me, who thought my art was different and maybe that meant something."

"Of course it meant something," Hinami said softly. "If it meant nothing, would you be here right now, Urie?"

"I won't blame him for my bad decisions," Urie said coldly. He sank into his seat, and he sighed. "I'm not that deluded. I don't think sometimes, and that's my fault— or sometimes I think too much, and I can't act at all. What happened with the murals, it was never meant to go anywhere, but… it made him happy. It made me happy. I guess it was less about you guys, and more about… how I felt. I'm sorry for that."

"Goddamn," Ayato said flatly, "fuck you. You use our suffering and turn it into some kind of fucking think piece? Who do you think you are, Banksy?"

Urie looked away sharply. He had no fucking excuse. Typical.

"Listen up," Ayato said, jerking a finger in Urie's face, "and listen good. You _know_ ghouls have feelings. You know we matter. You do care, or else you'd never risk your life for us. There are better ways to rebel than support a group your father kills for a living. Dude, if you want to help us, _help us_. Keep in touch when you get out of here, fucking let us _help you_. It's not like we've got anything better to do."

"It's true," Hinami piped up, staring at Ayato a bit in wonder. "We're stuck in here indefinitely, but sneaking around isn't a foreign concept to us."

Urie stared at them blankly. His mouth opened slightly, and he leaned forward slowly. "You'd help me with the Painter?" His brow furrowed skeptically. "Can you guys paint?"

"I can use a spray can, at the very fucking least," Ayato hissed.

"I can kind of paint," Hinami offered.

Urie rolled his eyes, and he ran his fingers through his hair. "Why not?" he muttered. "What do I have to lose? I'm already going to be grounded for eternity."

* * *

Further down in the underground, there were three friends who lay down in a bed of corpse flowers. Their red tongues curled up and out toward a sky they would never see. Hair mingled in the red, red bed, heads nearly brushing. White and yellow and black or blue, depending on the light.

"I love you," Kaneki said.

"That's sweet of you," Hide said.

"That's stupid of you," Touka said.

Kaneki's arms reached out, passing through the flowers blindly for a friend. He touched Hide's shoulder. He touched Touka's palm. He sighed, and he was happy.

"Have I made the right choice?" he asked them.

Hide hummed. He sat up, flowers hardly rustling, and he leaned over Kaneki. His face was dripping red. His eyes were gauzy and faded.

"I'm not going anywhere this time," Hide said gently.

Kaneki couldn't help but smile. A drop of blood hit his cheek, but it did not matter, because Hide smiled too. "Touka?" he offered, hoping her reply was as encouraging as Hide's.

When she didn't reply, Kaneki sat up. Both he and Hide leaned over her, staring at her intently. "Touka?" they said in unison. She had her hands folded over her chest, her dark hair longer than he'd ever seen it. It tangled in the spider lilies.

She looked at them with languid eyes bursting aflame with all her gutsy fury and determination.

She said, "I have been here since the beginning, and I will be here until the very end."

Kaneki smiled, relieved a bit by her words. He and Hide dragged her upright, and she scowled as they leaned against her.

"When I died," Kaneki murmured, "were you sad?"

She didn't respond. Hide hummed, and he reached out and took her chin, forcing her to look at his bloody face.

"When I died," Hide said, "were you sad?"

Her eyes grew wide, and she tore her chin from his grasp. "I didn't know either of you were dead," she said firmly. "I just kept living. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to keep living?"

"I wanted you to say something," Kaneki whispered.

"I wanted you to know me," Hide sighed loftily. "Know me, love me, make things right."

"But nothing will change," Touka said.

"Not with that attitude," Kaneki teased her. She looked at him, and he saw with a small jolt of shock that there were tears in her eyes.

"You left me," she said. Her voice was cold and dull and it echoed on the rafters and it echoed in his heart. "You left me so many times, and I wished you dead. You _changed_." She shoved him away, and he fell backwards into the flowers, the scent of corpses stinging his nose. "You changed, you changed, and I never wanted that! I never wanted you!" Her voice was shrill and piercing now. " _Why did you have to change?_ "

He shuddered. The ceiling was black and he was sinking. Her voice echoed and echoed until Echo was no more. The flowers swayed like Narcissus by the riverbed.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

But it wasn't good enough. The Touka he had left behind had deserved so much more than an apology. The Hide he had devoured had meant so much more than he could ever have known. What had he done, in that other world, in that would be future? How could he have gone so wrong?

Death hovered over him like a moth above a flame. He crouched among the spider lilies, saber in his fist.

He said, "Shall we go again?"

A loud rattling of a doorframe jolted him awake. He nearly gasped, reaching out into the blinding white light and crying, " _Not again_!"

A breath tickled his neck as it inhaled sharply. He blinked at the whiteness, watching it turn grave and gray, flickering madly as the scenes changed and flickered. A woman's face, black and white, mouthing something that he could not understand. Beside him, a girl groaned and buried her face into his shoulder.

A figure stood frozen before his outstretched hand. He couldn't see. He couldn't think. Should he attack?

The door rattled again. Knocking. Violent knocking. In the dark, the figure's head turned slowly toward it.

"What…?" Kaneki breathed. "Who…?"

The girl on his shoulder shifted and sighed.

"Kaneki," the figure said. It was Hide's voice. Hide's face seemed to swim into existence by the glow of the television. "Whatever happens, I am with _you_. Got it? You. No one else."

"What?" Kaneki rubbed his eyes blearily. "What does that…?"

Touka awoke with a short groan. "What's happening now?" she muttered, lifting her head from Kaneki's shoulder groggily.

Hide did not respond. He turned towards the door, unlocked it hesitantly, and then slowly dragged it open.

By the dim light of the hall, Kaneki saw a looming figure. He drew an arm around Touka's shoulders and drew her closer protectively. She didn't even push him away.

"Oh?" Hide's voice was just a small, relieved exhale. "Amon? What are you doing here so late?"

Amon's voice came drifting in, rushed and rigid. "I was told… Kaneki would be here."

Their eyes met over Hide's head. Amon's dark gaze swiveled immediately to Touka, who bristled even in her half-sleep. She extricated herself from Kaneki swiftly.

"What?" Kaneki pushed the blanket he'd shared with Touka off him and stumbled to his feet. "Is something wrong? What's happened?"

"Nothing," Amon said coldly, "yet. God help you, Kaneki, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question." Kaneki made it to the door numbly while Hide ducked back into the room and turned on the light. Kaneki saw that Touka was huddled on the couch, glancing at him nervously.

"Kaneki," Amon sighed. "Walk with me, okay?"

Kaneki stared at him vacantly. He stuffed his feet into a pair of shoes at the door, shoes which might not have even been his own, and he followed Amon quietly out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> luctuose.  
> so as to cause sadness.


	46. fandus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been awhile, huh? so here's the run down.
> 
> yes, i'm technically still on hiatus. i'm trying my best, but this story doesn't have the appeal that it used to. inspiration has been pretty thin since i stopped reading the manga (a year and a half ago! can you believe), and especially now that i've moved on to different projects. on the bright side, i have FINALLY made it to a point where i can definitively say the end is in sight. so buckle up. we're in the home stretch!
> 
> just a reminder to read my star wars fics lmao, i have a lot of fun writing them.

The night was warm and muggy, the buzz of street lamps harmonizing with distant cars rushing through deadened roads. Kaneki stepped obediently behind Amon, glancing up at the back of the man's head curiously. His broad shoulders were hunched as he shuffled along, brought up to his ears as though he bore the whole sky, an Atlus of modern proportions.

They walked slowly. The summer night dwindled, and everything grew so thick and stifling around them that Kaneki could hardly breathe.

"What have I done this time?" he murmured.

Amon stopped. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, a dark silhouette blotting out a hazy yellow streetlamp. Distant neon glows from traffic lights and store signs burned into his eyes as he paused to glance around.

"I can't do this any longer, Kaneki."

Kaneki stood, staring vacantly at his friend's back, and he sighed deeply. He stepped up beside him, and he searched the man's shadowy face for some sort of sign— some answer that could not be spoken, like an ounce of unbidden emotion could decipher his vague words.

"What?" Kaneki asked, dragging his hand through his hair. "Do  _what_?"

Amon's head bowed meagerly, and he rose his fingers to this bridge of his nose. "I…" He took a deep breath. "I understand, you know. I know… I know you think I am some obstinate fool, but I understand why you have been so furious with me. It isn't fair. None of this has been fair to you."

Kaneki leaned back, squinting up at Amon's face suspiciously. "I can sense the "but" there," he said dully.

Amon glanced up at him. His dark eyes, though dull and distant, reflected the hazy yellow glow of the streetlamp overhead.

"But," Amon said in resignation, "I can't quite grasp why you'd risk it all… everything you have worked so hard at… your  _life_  for that girl."

"Ugh," Kaneki groaned, turning away. "This is about Touka. I should have figured that out when you started making it sound like I was right. Damn it, Amon…"

"Explain it to me." Amon stood in the dark, his eyes glittering madly as he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "If I am being so damn unreasonable, explain to me how you think this could possibly end well for either of you."

"We're handling it, okay?"

"Okay is not good enough, Kaneki," Amon hissed, folding his hands together and bringing his fist to his forehead. "I— damn it, Kaneki, I'm not here to fight you!"

"You have a funny way of showing it."

Amon squeezed his eyes shut, and he dragged his hands over his face. He seemed to shrink slowly, his shoulders loosening into a slump as his head lowered into his palms. He took a deep breath, and his whole body shuddered.

"I'm sorry," Amon said hoarsely.

Kaneki stood and stared at him, considering this man with a cautious gaze before leaning forward. "You're sorry?" Kaneki frowned. "You're sorry for what?"

Amon lifted his hands shakily from his face, and his black eyes stared at the gray sidewalk, shadows crawling along his cheeks and yellow light glazing against his pupils. He shook his head.

"For how I've treated you… for lying to you… for pretending that my ownership of you didn't matter… for  _this,_ even." Amon blinked down at him, and his face was so somber and distraught that Kaneki found himself sympathetic. He saw this man, his black eyes soft and imploring, and he remembered the coldness in them the day they had met. In this muggy summer air, he could taste the rain close at hand, and he remembered. "I'm sorry, Kaneki."

Kaneki rocked back on his heels, mildly stunned. He blinked up at the sky, neon lights staining it gray and blotting out any star visible beyond the cover of clouds.

"I don't know how to fix this," he said quietly. Amon glanced at him, his brow furrowing. "I… Amon, I'm trying my  _hardest_  to keep this all together— to keep Touka safe, to take down Aogiri— but I really don't think I'm making much of a difference at all."

"That girl is…" Amon grimaced. "She is certainly a force to be reckoned with. You know rumors are beginning to spread, right?"

Kaneki sighed. He wandered over to the wall of a convenient store, and rested his back against it. "Yeah," he murmured. He slid down the wall and collapsed in defeat on the gray sidewalk. "Yeah… I know. I know it's bad, Amon."

"You think you can wrangle this before they start calling for blood?"

"I think we need to get their attention off Touka, and onto something else." Kaneki drummed his fingers against his knees thoughtfully. He glanced up at Amon hopefully. "Do you think your dad might know something?"

Amon's shadowy face seemed to grow even darker in the pit of the night. Not even his eyes could reflect the light now.

"He is not my father," he spat, "but… possibly. Any lead on any case would be a blessing at this point. I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," Kaneki murmured, bowing his head. "I… I know how hard it is for you. It means a lot."

"Yeah, well… I have a lot to make up for, I think." Amon rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "I've had ghouls in my custody before, but… not like this. This is different, and… in a way that makes it so much more unethical."

"It's always unethical, Amon," Kaneki said glumly. "You just have been too blind to see it."

Amon exhaled sharply. It was too late to think about how messed up things had become. It was too late for Kaneki to turn back. It was too late, really, to pretend like the end was not coming full speed ahead, and the whistle was broken, so he would just lie on the tracks some more and look at the would-be stars.

Remember, maybe, what death had been like.

"I think I know of something that will get everyone talking about something else," Kaneki sighed. "It might not be enough, though. Should I look into the Yasuhisas some more?"

"Getting our hands on Dr. Kanou would be in our best interest," Amon admitted. He stepped forward, his black shoes clapping softly against the concrete, and he sat down heavily beside Kaneki. Kaneki could not remember the last time they had been so close, and he glanced up at the man curiously. He was loosening his tie, his expression taut and almost pained. "What is it we are fighting for now, Kaneki?"

He shifted, his eyes flickering from the view of the street across from them to Amon's stricken face. "Um…" He smiled weakly, and he tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Amon was staring straight ahead, focused on the dull neon white light of a subway sign just a few kilometers away. He slumped forward, his head hanging and his hair falling into his eyes.

"I have spent so long hunting ghouls," he said quietly. "I have seen them… I have known them… and I have killed them. What was that for? Kaneki, this girl… Touka… is she a monster?"

Kaneki was speechless. He turned these words over in his head, thinking over his own experiences, listening to this man as he had been a year and a life away, but none of those memories seemed to click together with this image. This man, broken and begging, his voice a whisper and a prayer and a reckoning all together in one heap of shallow breath. He spoke, and he wondered, and he asked a question for the sake of his own sanity or morality or faith or just for some damn absolution. He needed this. He needed to know.

Kaneki could not give him the answer he needed.

"No, Amon," Kaneki said somberly. "Touka is no more a monster than you or me. She is just a person."

"Can't it be that she… she tricked you somehow… that she's just pretending to be a person?" It was asked in a tone of a man who did not quite recognize the resignation in his voice. He was living on false hopes, speaking words that had died before they had left his lips. He watched them go, and an understanding passed through them both as they heard these words and knew the truth.

"You know she's not, Amon."

Amon lowered himself farther, like a man about to prostrate himself before a king, and he shook his head.

"I don't know how I should feel," he admitted quietly. "I am not the man I thought I was, or the man I wanted to be— Kaneki, I don't know if I can stop hating ghouls."

"You don't hate me," Kaneki pointed out gently. "That's a start, right?"

"I have never hated you," Amon murmured, "but that's because I've considered you to be human. You and Mutsuki… but you are not. I need to recognize that."

Kaneki nodded. He touched Amon's shoulder, and offered a reassuring smile. "Acceptance is not an easy road, Amon," he said. "It took me a very long time to accept that I am a ghoul. I think I've forgotten that part of me is human along the way. We all forget things, and we all ignore things about ourselves, about others, and we turn the blind eye, and we try so damn hard to just  _forget_." He squeezed Amon's shoulder, and Amon raised his head to glance into Kaneki's eyes. "I won't forget any longer. I won't pretend. And neither should you."

Amon sighed. He lifted his head and lifted it and lifted it, until his head rested against the wall behind him, and his eyes were bared to the smoggy night.

"I've tried so hard to figure this out on my own," he said. "To figure  _you_  out— I never really wanted to confide in you, because I was afraid of this. I did not want to be wrong, and realizing… understanding your own mistakes and accepting them… I don't want this, Kaneki."

"No one wants this," Kaneki replied gravely. "This is truth. We will hide behind just anything to save our eyes from the sight of it— but truth is truth. We are here, and we are not evil. No more inherently evil than humans."

"You eat people," Amon scoffed, half a disbelieving laugh sputtering from his lips. "God, I hate this. I hate this conversation. There is no reasoning with it."

"Nature is nature, you know." Kaneki laughed. He couldn't help it. This conversation was so tired, but this was so new. Amon was listening. He was  _listening_ , and Kaneki could feel this shift like he felt his own heart thudding hard against his ribs.

"Kaneki," Amon murmured. He turned so that he was sitting upright, his head held high and his eyes suddenly alight with familiar determination. "I am on your side. Whatever happens now, you have to know this. I will do whatever I can to help you, until whatever I can do is nothing."

Kaneki stared at him, mute and awed and wondering how it had come to this. Images of a man in the rain, of blood in the air and on his tongue flushing his senses. He could not imagine being there now, when the here was so different, when the now was so strange, when things made sense and yet had no ground in reality.

He was reeling. The past and the future were muddled, and he had no clear sense of direction.

But he smiled anyway.

"Thank you," he whispered. "You have no idea… you really don't know how much that means to me."

"I hope it softens the blow of what I'm going to tell you next."

Kaneki winced.  _Right,_  he thought numbly.  _Of course. There had to be something. Why else would he change his mind so abruptly? Why else come track me down in the middle of the night? I'm so fucking stupid_.

"What is it?" he asked, defeated and spent.

Amon looked at him and then looked away. His eyes were glittering. There were no lights to reflect now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I have been selfish, I know, and I want to be better. For everyone's sake, I want to be better, but I can't be better. Not with you."

"What are you saying…?" Kaneki heard him, but he didn't quite hear him, and the paradox was setting all of his senses abuzz like he was waking up in a hospital bed, death in his mouth and new air filling his lungs.

Amon looked down at him, and there was a finality to his gaze.

"I transferred you into the custody of Washuu Yoshitoki," he said sharply. "I will not own you any longer. I refuse."

Kaneki sat and stared at him, city sounds muted in the midst of his words that boomed and clapped, wider and wider until they filled all available space. Gaseous and thin, they resounded and resonated.

And Kaneki laughed.

He  _laughed_. He laughed because this was not what he had been expecting, and he laughed because it was so simple, so strange and simple and  _heartfelt_  that he had to laugh, for it was all he knew how to do in this moment.

Laughter bubbled up, and it hung itself in his chest.

He was so tired of being someone else's tool.

At least now he knew he wasn't Amon's.

"What?" Amon demanded. "What on earth are you laughing for?"

Kaneki laughed and he laughed, and he looked up at Amon's angry face, and he laughed as he buried his face in Amon's shoulder and drew his arms around him.

He laughed because he had nothing left to say.

* * *

"I think your coloring is fine," Urie said, "but your lines could really use some work."

Hinami looked down at her drawing with a frown. Her honey colored hair slipped against her cheek as she nodded and snatched a new piece of paper. At her side, Ayato was slipping her retired creations out from under her and folding them into paper airplanes. Urie stared at him pointedly, but he took no heed.

 _I thought you wanted to be part of this_ , Urie thought furiously. He said nothing though. He simply stared, his black eyes boring into Ayato's smooth face. The boy, Urie had come to realize, was always aware of when someone was angry with him because he became very attuned to his own movements. He smoothed out the paper carefully, sliding his finger across each crease, his eyes never lifting from his progress.

Finally, Ayato said, "Do you want something, dove spawn?"

"Hinami is working hard to prove she can be part of this." Urie folded his arms across his chest, and he squinted down at Ayato. "What do you have that I can use?"

Ayato's eyes rolled upwards into his skull so that his long eyelashes fluttered gently against his cheek. Urie exhaled.

Ayato reached over Hinami gently, using as much care as possible not to interrupt her, and he dipped his finger into the vat of red paint Urie had set up for them. He lifted it, red oozing off his index finger and sliding down his knuckle. He plopped it down upon his half-made airplane, and then finished folding it. And then he unfolded it.

Thick red blots marred the white paper, vibrant and stark, dribbling down and halting suddenly. Ayato slid it over to Urie, and then tapped his lower lip as he smirked.

"There's your fucking art," he said. Urie watched the red paint smear against his lip. He looked down at the blotted paper, and he touched the edge of it gingerly.

He was aware of both their eyes on him suddenly. He felt warm, and he did not understand it, but the warmth was welcome now. He was warm, and he was happy.

Urie met Ayato's eyes, and he pushed the paper back to him.

"You're going to make flyers," he said.

Ayato gaped at him, red paint drying into the ridges of his lips.

Hinami smiled at Ayato, and she reached over and took his hand. "Look at you," she joked, "being good for something."

Ayato's cheeks reddened, and he wrenched his hand from hers. "Fuckin'  _worthless_ ," he muttered, his eyes flickering toward Urie's disdainfully. Urie did not mind. He had picked up on the intricacies of Ayato's personality, and felt he understood him well enough.

Urie sat down beside Hinami as Ayato went off into the bedroom. She smiled at him sheepishly.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "He's just antsy. Being cooped up doesn't suit him."

"I know the feeling."

She raised her eyes sympathetically to him, and he looked away. He liked the girl fine. She was sweet and smarter than anyone gave her credit for, but he still felt like he was interacting with a child. Even though she was not that much younger than him.

"You won't be here for much longer," she reminded him.

"Yeah…" He frowned down at his hands. "That's what I'm worried about."

Hinami watched him. She shot a glance toward the bedroom door, and then she leaned forward. "It's okay," she whispered. "I won't hate you if you turn us in."

Urie looked down at her sharply, horror dawning on him as he searched her gentle features for sign of a jest. She was looked at him with a sad, sincere smile. A strange twinge of nausea shot through him, and he swallowed hard. It was difficult, and his mouth was suddenly very dry as his fingers twitched against each other nervously.

A steady knock at the door made him jump, his heart leaping into his throat.  _What am I supposed to say?_  He thought, glancing between Hinami and the door, his jaw setting.  _I should tell her I won't. That I'd never_.

But he knew. He knew himself.

He couldn't say that. He couldn't say for sure.

And it  _hurt_. It hurt to be the one they couldn't count on. If it had been Shirazu— if it had been even  _Mutsuki_ , then it would have been fine, and they would not need to worry about the CCG breathing down their necks, and the saddest part was that Urie wasn't even an investigator.

Ayato swept into the room, his hair drawn back from his face in a scruffy ponytail. He was wearing Touka's clothes again. Urie knew because they were too small for him, and he did not seem to care at all.

Ayato flung the door open. He glanced at the visitor, and seemed to snarl, throwing the door closed as fast as he could.

He was not fast enough.

"What the hell?" Urie gasped, leaping to his feet and stumbling back as Kaneki Ken came marching into the room. Hinami jumped up as well, though her face seemed to light up.

"Kaneki!" she cried happily.

"Hinami," he said, smiling at her warmly. "It's good to see you. You look well— Ayato's treating you okay, then?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Hinami asked curiously.

Kaneki's smile widened, and he stepped closer to her, patting her head affectionately. She looked a little stunned, but content nonetheless.

Then his eyes swiveled to Urie, and they darkened considerable.

"We need to talk," he said.

Urie stepped back.

"Hey," Ayato barked. He stepped between Urie and Kaneki, shoving the man back and jerking his chin obtusely. "Fuck off, man. This isn't your home, and he's not your business."

"I'm CCG, Ayato," Kaneki sighed, " _of course_ , he's my business! The fact that you didn't call me immediately… do you have any idea how much trouble you could be in if anyone knew he was here?"

"I don't care!" Ayato's eyes were fierce— angrier and more feral than Urie had ever seen them. He seemed to hate Kaneki more than Urie did, which was astonishing. "Did I fucking ask for you to come? No. We figured it out on our own. We're fine. Go crawl back to your precious doves!"

"I don't have time to argue with you, Ayato," Kaneki sighed. "Just move."

"No."

"Are you kidding?" Kaneki's eyes widened. "You're not. You're not kidding. You're really protecting him? Do you even know who he is?"

"You mean do I know he's the son of a dove?" Ayato rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'm not an idiot, of course I fucking know!"

"Then you get why I need him." Kaneki blinked, and he shook his head furiously. "What am I doing? Urie, let's go."

"Why should I go anywhere with you?" Urie asked sharply.

Kaneki stared at him. His mouth opened, and then it closed. He looked between Urie and Ayato, and for a moment his face fell. And then it lit up.

"You guys are friends?" He took a step back, as though to take in what he was seeing, and he grinned so suddenly and excitedly that Ayato and Urie shared a look of disgust. "That's amazing. This is amazing."

"Kaneki," Hinami said, hugging her arms to her chest and stepping up beside Ayato. "Where are you going to take Urie?"

"I'm going to take him home, Hinami," Kaneki said very softly, looking down at her and looking truly sorry. "I'm sorry, but he can't stay here. You all are already at risk, and with him… I really don't want to see this place burn." He looked pointedly at Urie, his eyes gleaming as they met his. "Urie, if you care about this place or these people at all, you will come with me. Now."

Urie wanted to shout at him. He wanted to tell him that he was not the man Shirazu thought he was, that he wasn't some savior, and that he was truly a monster— more than these two were. He was not scared of Kaneki Ken, just baffled by his existence, and annoyed that he lived in such proximity to him. He was a man, but he was something else, and it chafed him the wrong way.

But he was not wrong.

So Urie swallowed his pride.

He did not look at Ayato or Hinami as he brushed past them to Kaneki's side.

"Let's go," he said in a dull, flat tone.

"Urie…!" Hinami called.

Urie closed his eyes. He kept walking.

Kaneki led him out of the apartment— the first time he had ever seen the outside of it, and now he had to leave it forever, probably. He didn't really understand it, the feeling that was sliding through his chest, like a chip of ice that was just a little too big to swallow. He was a little dazed as he walked down the stairs, following Kaneki's steps obediently.

They took a sharp right, into a dark corridor. Urie told himself that he was not worried, that fear was foolish at this point. He may not like Kaneki Ken, but the man was not a foe. For once Urie had to trust in Shirazu's judgement and believe that Kaneki had his best interests at heart.

"Did you know that Ayato was Touka's brother?" Kaneki asked quietly as they came upon a back door. Urie heard soft, meaningless chatter from a distant room, and he wondered not for the first time where he was.

"Not when I met him," Urie said, "no."

Kaneki glanced back at him. He had swollen, tired eyes, and he smiled gently in disbelief.

"You owe a life debt to the Kirishimas," he said. "I hope you know that."

"I'm here with you, aren't I?" Urie brushed past him, limping a bit as he hefted the door open and stepped out into the stark summer sun. He stood for a moment, basking in the warmth of it, his skin drinking in every drop of pure sunlight as his ears rung from distant cicadas buzzing away.

"We need to get your story straight. It's going to be tough to get the CCG to believe this had nothing to do with ghouls."

Urie closed his eyes. He tilted his head back and took a deep breath of thick, warm air, his lungs filling up with the smallest taste of freedom. He exhaled, and let his head drop.

"I have an idea," he said somberly. He turned to face Kaneki, and set his eyes fiercely upon his face. "I don't think you'll like it, though."

Kaneki surprised him by offering a small smirk, and shutting the door behind him as he stepped beside Urie in the sunlit alley.

"Try me," he said firmly.

* * *

Happy is he who knows nothing of the world.

Mutsuki's head drifted back, the ghost of his face imprinted upon the opposite window. A black mirror that aged and withered youthful faces in the bleak underground, lights and shadows blurring behind it in some modern refrain. Happy was he, a boy who had nothing in the world. It was like some huge cosmic joke, to exist and not be seen, to feel and not be felt, to know and to know and to know too much. He was always going to be on this strange brink of despair and elation, tipping precariously on the verge of manic and desolate.

The girl across from them was quiet. Her droopy eyes fluttered closed every so often, as though she was nodding off before the intercom announced a new stop, and she glanced up at the neon words drifting away on a black screen.

Not even Shirazu knew what to say.

He had thought, you know, that things would get better. That people knowing would make things better, but he was as lost as he had ever been. He didn't think he was much  _worse_ , not even with the whole torture and the becoming a ghoul thing. That was sort of inconsequential considering how his brain seemed to work against him regardless of what he went through physically.

He still went to therapy sometimes, which helped. Unfortunately, none of the medication he was given seemed to work for his new ghoul biology, so he was unable to figure out how much of his bad feelings were in his head.

Upon the call for their station, he was immediately on his feet. The girl watched him, her eyes widening and flickering back to Shirazu confusedly. He pushed through the crowd and wandered out onto the platform, smoothing out his white coat and glancing around him.

"The woman we're lookin' for," Shirazu piped up behind him, "what was her name?"

"Madame A."

The girl appeared at Shirazu's side. Her mousy pigtails fell against her shoulders as they hunched nervously.

"And how'd Kaneki get this info?"

"How does Kaneki get any info?" Mutsuki started forward up the steps and into the bright sun. He paused to take it in, warmth an old friend to him, and if he suspended his thought for a minute he might find himself in a tiny house in Tijuana, with ocean salt just a few steps away and his brother's hands guiding his.

"Fair point." Shirazu's voice broke the reverie, but in a gentle way. Like being shaken awake from a fever dream, where reality and reverie intertwined, and Shirazu and his brother could exist as one. "You think it'll be dangerous? We shouldn't bring Saiko if it's gonna be dangerous."

"Saiko signed up for this."

"Um…" Yonebayashi Saiko stood stiffly beside Shirazu, her droopy eyes wide with apprehension and fear. Shirazu looked down at her, and Mutsuki saw the pity in his eyes.

"Yo," Shirazu said, smacking Mutsuki's shoulder. "Ya know how hard this is at first. Be a little considerate, man."

Mutsuki closed his eyes. It wasn't that he had meant to be harsh, but they were under so much pressure to  _succeed_ — Kaneki was being held under so much scrutiny because of everything on top of this rumor that was surfacing about his loyalties and a ghoul in the CCG— that he had put his personal feelings on this matter aside. Saiko had submitted her application to become a Quinx. She would have to get used to this.

"Saiko, do you want to go back to headquarters?" he asked, looking down at her with a genuine concern in his eyes. At least the visible one.

"N-no!" She shook her head fiercely. "This is the only way I can become one of you, right?"

"Well," Mutsuki sighed, "not exactly… I never shadowed anyone."

"Yeah, but ya know you were also first," Shirazu retorted. "There are more protocols now, because we turned out so fucked up."

Saiko's eyebrows shot up, and Mutsuki flinched as her face drained of color.

" _I_  turned out fucked up," Mutsuki gasped, eying Saiko nervously, "and that had nothing to do with the surgery itself. I just had bad luck."

"Cut the shit, Mutsuki," Shirazu said gravely. "Don't sugarcoat it. She has do decide if she wants this, and if she wants this, she has the right to know what it's like."

"It's not  _that bad_." Mutsuki closed his eyes and turned away. "I'm happier now than I've ever been."

"You're also a ghoul, man," Shirazu muttered. Saiko jumped, her eyes flitting between the two of them. She stepped back fearfully, her back bumping against the rail of the subway entrance.

"Stop scaring her," Mutsuki gasped, smacking Shirazu on the shoulder as he had done to him. "Saiko, we're going to protect you today, okay? If you're still scared, we can take you back to headquarters."

Saiko stared at him mutely. He could see the confusion and apprehension in her eyes, as though she could not quite figure out what to make of him or this situation. She lowered her head and said, "I want to go back."

Shirazu and Mutsuki glanced at each other. Shirazu ran his hands through his hair and turned away while Mutsuki closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay," he said.

They took the long way back, walking past the subway station toward headquarters. Shirazu tried to strike up a conversation and learn more about the girl, but she didn't seem very interested in talking. Mutsuki had a feeling she did not want to be here, and he was sorry about that. He didn't know how to handle this.

He wished Kaneki was here.

"How did you become a ghoul?" Saiko asked him suddenly. He glanced back at her, and Shirazu made an awkward, alarmed noise.

Mutsuki tried to take it in a stride. "Um, well…" He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "I was kidnapped a little while ago. I wasn't born a ghoul, and… you know, my Quinx surgery was a success, so I was still pretty human until that point. Anyway, my RC level just shot up, so now I can't eat human food."

"So you eat people?"

Mutsuki sighed. He shrugged, and smiled down at her sadly. "I eat whatever the CCG gives me. I don't really ask questions."

She didn't look too happy about that, but the subject died away. He was grateful for that.

They had been informed that morning that a girl interested in getting the Quinx surgery would be shadowing them. They had been given separate orders by Kaneki to find this Madame A, which seemed to conflict too heavily with the CCG's grand plan. Saiko was not comfortable with getting caught in the crossfire— frankly, Mutsuki didn't think she should be part of the Quinx at all. She didn't seem to have the drive or the ambition that was integral to the CCG. There was no  _reason._  And a reason was so important, so decisive in how you fair when you fall into this trap of hunt or be hunted. You need  _something_  to keep you going when it starts to get to your head, when guilt and fear and uncertainty start to well up inside you.

Mutsuki had acceptance and stability. Shirazu had money and insurance for his sister.

This girl had no rhyme or reason for being here, and Mutsuki knew it.

But he would not say anything. It was her choice, after all, to throw her life away for this.

They all had a choice. Even Kaneki had thrown his lot in and received this.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Shirazu said as they brought Saiko through the doors of the CCG and past the RC detector. Mutsuki had to stop to show his badge to the woman at the front desk before carefully rounding it. He had set the detector off before, and had gotten a special clearance in order to avoid it in the future.

"Right…" Saiko did not look particularly happy about it. Shirazu didn't seem to notice, or pretended not to notice, because he smiled at her reassuringly and squeezed her shoulder.

They made their way upstairs to file their reports for the day.

"That was pretty bad," Mutsuki admitted.

"She just needs time to adjust," Shirazu replied, waving him off. "This is all really new for her. She was at my academy, ya know. Probably slept through half her time there."

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Mutsuki bit his lip nervously. "She doesn't want this, Shirazu, you know it."

"Look," Shirazu sighed, turning to face him solemnly, "let's not kid ourselves here. None of us wanted this. This ain't the world we dreamed of as kids, and it sure as hell ain't the life I want in the long run. But it's what we got. It's all we got. So we're gonna support Saiko, even if she doesn't want this, even if she ends up hatin' us and this and everything we've worked for. We're gonna do it 'cause it's the right thing to do."

Mutsuki stared at him, his mouth falling open in mild awe. He always forgot just how  _good_  Shirazu was. His intentions were always so pure, and it never ceased to amaze him.

"Okay." He nodded. "You're right. We'll support her. No matter what."

"Damn straight."

"You two are here early."

They both turned sharply to look at the door. Mado Akira's smooth, heart-shaped face peered at them coyly. She walked into the room and smirked up at them.

"Mado," Mutsuki gaped, blinking at her. "We had to finish up our mission early due to complications. What about you?"

"You know you can call me Akira." She smiled and shook her head, tucking her report into a file and placing it in a drawer. "My day was also painfully short. Amon was a no show."

"Him too?" Shirazu blurted. Akira glanced at him, looking a bit puzzled. Mutsuki shot Shirazu a warning look. Neither of them had talked about Kaneki's disappearance, because they had come to a nonverbal agreement that he was with Touka. This seemed to complicate things.

"What do you mean by that?" Akira asked, cupping her elbows and cocking her head to the side. "I assumed he had taken a sick day."

"Kaneki did as well," Mutsuki said with a shrug. "Maybe something's going around."

She frowned. Her sharp eyes examined his face closely, lingering for just a little too long before she sighed. "Yes," she said. "Maybe."

They were quiet, the three of them, none of them making eye contact.

"Well," Mutsuki said, "goodbye."

And then they left.

It was awkward because they had made it awkward. Because they were hiding something.

Perhaps she knew that.

It was hard, being part of something bigger than this and knowing it had to remain a secret.

"Let's go home," he murmured. Shirazu nodded in agreement.

Home was empty when they arrived. They looked around for a moment, studying their surroundings before coming to the same conclusion in unison.

Kaneki wasn't here. He had not been here at all.

Where  _was_  he?

"Want me to make you something?" Mutsuki asked as Shirazu flopped onto the couch and groaned.

"Would ya do that, man?"

Mutsuki smiled and wandered into the kitchen. He and Kaneki had eaten together the morning before, so they would be fine for a little while. He pulled out a pot and filled it with water, setting it on the stove and pulling some meat from the freezer. He heard the TV flicker on in the other room as he tapped the rock hard meat thoughtfully before unwrapping it.

After he stuck it in the microwave, he heard Shirazu shout. Mutsuki paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"Tooru!"

He abandoned the meat and rushed into the living room, stumbling to a stop before Shirazu and blinking at him with wide eyes. He was pointing at the television.

Mutsuki turned very slowly.

He was greeted with the faces of Kaneki Ken and Urie Kuki.

" _What_?" he gasped.

"I don't  _know_!" Shirazu was grinning. He was grinning in disbelief. "I was just flipping through channels, and— and  _wham_! There he is! He's fuckin' alive!"

"Yeah…" Mutsuki drifted over to the couch and sat down beside Shirazu, never looking away from the screen. "Yeah… look at that. He looks fine."

The headline stated:  _MISSING TEEN RECOVERED SAFE_.

Kaneki had been speaking, his words rapt and focused, smoothly delivering what everyone wanted to hear.

"—I know it is very sudden, but Urie has requested that he be allowed to speak. That's why I gathered all of you today, because he wanted to get his story out there without any interference from the law. I'm handing the mic over to him now." With that, Kaneki stepped away. He gave Urie a long look, a look Mutsuki knew to say,  _Are you sure about this?_

Urie simply stepped up to the podium and raised his chin high.

"You are all wondering," he began in a clear, direct voice, "where I have been. What happened to me, why I didn't call or inform anyone of my safety. And I apologize for that. It was wrong of me to neglect the feelings of others while on my own search for self-assurance. I have come to understand that while I was gone, there has been a manhunt for ghouls who may have been involved in my capture, which is untrue and unfair. I feel as though ghouls have become a sort of scapegoat for our problems, as though any problem we face is due to one ghoul or another or perhaps an organization of them. That in itself has become a problem."

"Oh my god," Mutsuki breathed. "Did you put him up to this?"

Shirazu stared at the screen, his mouth open wide but no words coming out. He shook his head mutely.

"I ran away." Urie paused to let the press begin to babble out questions at him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't understand any of your questions. I don't really care what they are anyway, to be honest. It's not your business, and you have to deal with that. I will tell you something, though, something that contributed to my decision and that I think is relevant to this conversation." He looked up into the camera, and he gripped the podium steadily. "We do not see eye to eye on many facets of how this world is operated. We have become products of a regime— part of a system I was so sure I wanted to contribute to until very recently. I don't know. I don't know who I am, or who I want to be, but I know one thing for sure. I cannot be my father. I will not be my father. We, and I am speaking for my generation, the ones who have the chance to build a better reality than the one we are living, are not our fathers. The mistakes made by generation after generation should not be our mistakes, and I do not want to inherit the blood of families and friends when I am barely old enough to comprehend my role as a human in a world where that is all you  _can_  be in a sense that excludes the other. I am trying to make sense of that. Othering as a concept. Are you following what I'm saying? We other everyone and everything, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of who I am, or who I think I am, or who I could be. I could be a ghoul. I almost was a ghoul. Think about that— the CCG almost let me change my body so I could become like a ghoul. That's a real thing. There are humans who are ghouls, and there are ghouls who are human, and how are  _we_  to decide the difference? What is the difference? I can't accept this black and white game of chess no more than I can accept my place in the CCG. I have no place there. Not anymore."

There was another explosion of questions, and this time Urie glanced around and he nodded to someone. They all quieted down.

"Urie, are you really defending ghouls?" some reporter asked. "After your father has worked so hard to defeat them?"

"I am defending ghouls," Urie said firmly. "Why shouldn't I? Ghouls can be wicked and evil, but so can humans. I've seen it. Their capacity for great good and great evil. That is what it means to be human, I think. The duality of it all, not the dichotomy. So I'll ask you this: what makes you so different than a ghoul?"

"What?" the reporter scoffed. "Are— are you joking?"

"No."

"I don't eat people, for one!"

"But you could," Urie said offhandedly, "if you wanted. Humans have cannibalized for lesser reasons than ghouls. Humans have killed humans for lesser reasons. Ghouls kill ghouls too. Something has got to give, and it is not us against them, but us against us.  _We_  are the problem."

"We are food to them— they're monsters!"

"I guess so," Urie said with a shrug. "But if we broke down the criteria for being monstrous, I don't think humans would pass it either. So we're stuck."

"You say that," the reporter said, "as if you know any ghouls. Is that possible? That you know ghouls?"

Urie sighed. He stood up straight, and he nodded. Suddenly they were all shouting again, but Urie stood unflinching, gripping the podium and waiting for them to quiet down.

"This is how I will leave you," he said. He took a deep breath, his eyes closed momentarily in a strange sort of reverence. Then he opened them, and he said, "My name is Urie Kuki, I am sixteen years old, and this is my confession. I have aided and abetted known ghouls, including the Aogiri Tree, and have defaced public property under the pseudonym The Painter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fandus, fanda, fandum. [adj]  
> that may be spoken.


End file.
